


there's so many voices

by mochi_stan



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Blood and Injury, British, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Domestic Violence, Dreams and Nightmares, Fairies, Family, Family Reunions, Gen, Ghosts, Magic, Memory Loss, Mermaids, Minor Violence, Nymphs & Dryads, Past Character Death, Phobias, Seaside, Shapeshifting, Siblings, Witchcraft, Witches, chan is trying his best, chan saves them, dad Chan, hyunjin is just worried a lot, jeongin was trafficked as a child before chris, minho would do anything for his brothers, the boys deserve better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24218542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochi_stan/pseuds/mochi_stan
Summary: Jisung had lived blindly in the dark for too long, Changbin in deafening silence, and Jeongin too afraid to be alone. Chan could only do so much to piece them together as their father, so moving them all to his mother's home and taking back his throne was the least he could do. In an unprecedented turn of events, their little town became home to many surprises, all life-changing in one way or another. But Jisung now had to face the reality that was his life and what storm he had conjured up along the way.or, Chan is dad to Changbin, Jisung and Jeongin and they all move by the sea in the little English town Chan grew up in. Their pasts catch up to them very quickly, and they find new family along the way.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 46





	1. arriving

**Author's Note:**

> this is a fully written fic that i'll just slowly update because i realised i cant write fics per chapter as they go i have to have it fully done or else i'll just give up shsksjs  
> this is mostly edited, no beta, and it's literally so self-indulgent so idk if it'll be confusing or if there's any plot holes or whatever in this. i just wanted to do a skz family fic <33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: trigger warning/spoiler - i think it might be worth stating here that younghyun isn't in this fic much because he's dead. it's not descriptive, it's not like he plays a huge role, he's just very important to jisung. he doesn't die in the fic (the past character death is the tag for this) but he isn't around anymore. just a warning that i realised could be upsetting to some people. it doesn't really spoil much to say this <33

There was a musty, aching smell in the air that permeated through every room of the empty mansion. Jisung sniffed, leaning his nose close to the walls with water stains carved into them. He found that it was not one singular thing that reeked but was in fact just how the whole house smelled.

The moving men made their ruckus, loud and sweaty and echoing down the dreary hallways. If the family were to live here, Jisung knew he would need to clean it. It didn’t help that the manor was many hundreds of years old, perhaps as old as the small towns they could see glittering from the windows of the house. The electricity flickered worryingly, and some of the bathrooms were permanently out of order.

Ungratefulness, however, would get Jisung nowhere. He knew this, even as he swiped his finger along a corner of peeling wallpaper in the next room, and as his socked feet danced up and down uneven floorboards, barely missing stuck-out bent nails.

He wobbled, heel of one foot twisting to collide with the front of the other, but hands caught him before he could stumble head-first into a wall.

“Don’t go breaking this place before we’ve even settled in,” his brother, Changbin, said, setting him upright before giving the room a once over. “It’s sort of dingy.”

Jisung snorted. “Sort of? It’s a mess. It’s gonna take forever to fix up.”

“Mm, maybe.” Changbin ran a hand along a dusty wall, wiping it on his old jeans and coughing. “It’ll take a while, but this place isn’t just all dust and poor heating. Chris’ family owned this place for years.”

“Any magic that was here is probably dead or dark. I don’t trust it.”

Changbin flicked his forehead, tutting. He grabbed Jisung around his bicep and tugged him out of the room without glancing back at its grey walls.

“Well, Chris trusts it. And we trust him, so deal with it.”

They came to a hallway, lined with windows that let morning sunlight seep through and paint the carpeted floor in shadows. Dust fluttered about, caught in its rays, and Jisung felt his nose tickle as they walked through it.

A shout echoed from downstairs, sounding rather excited. They came to one of many staircases, this one winding down against a wall instead of long and central like the main one. This was Jisung’s favourite part of the house, for it was slightly tucked away and prettier than the rest of it. Everything else was too grand and proper, but here was where Jisung could imagine himself sitting down for lunch or a nap in a window seat.

Jeongin was chasing his cat along the marble floor, hands curled like claws. Joy ran through his eyes as the cat darted away. However, it was too slow and was soon pressed into Jeongin’s arms.

“Stop bullying Lucky,” Changbin said, grinning. “You’ll lose her in this place.”

Jeongin pressed a kiss to the Lucky’s head. “She always comes when I call, don’t worry. She loves me really.”

The three, plus the cat, traipsed through the endless maze of hallways and rooms and open spaces until they came to the main living room where Chris was discussing something with one of the movers. Hearing them approach, he glanced up and smiled before quickly finishing his conversation.

“Is it still as terrible as you thought before we moved in?” he asked, eyes latching onto Jisung for longer than the others.

Jisung thought back to what Changbin had said, and he knew he was right. This was Chris’ family home, the one his mother and her mother and her mother had lived in with all of their children and siblings and family alike. The air tingled too often of something sour beneath his fingertips, but Jisung trusted Chris.

“It’s not so bad,” he said, causing the others to stare for a moment. “I’ll get used to it.”

Changbin snorted. “Well, you better.”

Really, it wasn’t so bad. As all their furniture (which wasn’t much to begin with) and belongings began to fill up the murky corners of the manor, Jisung found that it wasn’t exactly _bad_ , simply different.

He still couldn’t shake the strange, empty, murmuring tingle that stuck to his skin and withered in odd, airy spaces that he so happened to walk through. Every time he froze up in one, Changbin stared at him funny. He knew he wasn’t the only one feeling it, but nobody else brought it up. Perhaps they just didn’t want to see their dad look worried.

As the morning faded into afternoon, Jeongin suggested they go for an early dinner in the nearest town, and Jisung leapt at the chance. Jeongin set Lucky down by the front door, whispering to her before skipping out the door so that Chris could lock it.

The town, which honestly could have passed as a village, was nestled atop a bleary cliff overlooking a glimmering sapphire sea. Somehow, its presence filled Jisung with both comfort and unease.

Chris’ car came to a grumbling stop in a car park. They all clambered out as Chris made a dash for the parking machine. He slotted in a handful of coins, snagged a ticket from the machine, and sat it on the dashboard of the car before wrapping an arm around Jisung’s narrow shoulders and steering them into the town.

Eyes clawed at their trailing footsteps. Jisung felt the hairs on the back of his neck spark, and he couldn’t but glance around him. People stared. Not many, but enough to make him uneasy. They know he wasn’t meant to be here, and they knew what sort of house he’d moved into – this grand, ancient manor that used to house all sorts of peculiarities. Now it housed a handful of British-Korean boys and their adoptive dad. Not weird at all.

Chris was as perfectly unfazed by the stares as he was for plenty of the things that flew their way. He was also a stickler for small restaurants and cafes, and they ended up stumbling upon a tucked away pub on a street crawling with boarded up shops.

The pub’s name itself wasn’t quite as normal as others; that should have been the first sign. It was in bold, curled letters and it read: _The Wingless Fairy_. Pubs tended to be named after animals or kings or local malarkey. If wingless fairies were the common creature around here, Jisung had a feeling he’d fit in pretty quickly.

Not many people sat inside. A couple sat by the window, sharing a bowl of chips and salad. An old man had his head hung over the bar with a half-drained beer in his pale grasp. There was also a boy no older than Jisung wiping down a table, eyes flittering up to them as they strode in. He stood upright very quickly, eyes bulging, as he caught sight of them.

“Hello,” he greeted, skittish fingers dancing across the table to clutch at the bottom of his shirt. “There are more tables in the back.”

Chris nodded, but Jisung saw the glimmer in his eyes, like a flash of lightning reflecting deep in them. They walked past the boy, who tensed as they did, and to a larger room in the back of the pub. Changbin pulled out a chair and sat down, drumming his fingers on the table.

“This is going to be fun,” Jisung heard Jeongin mumble to himself, sitting opposite Changbin. “Dad, are you sure this move was a good idea? They all seem a bit on edge around us.”

Chris shrugged sourly. “Well, we’re here now. Sorry.”

They all winced, staring up at the detached sadness in Chris’ eyes. Jisung dropped his head onto Chris’ shoulder, fiddling with the frayed edge of his shirt sleeve.

“No, it’s fine, they’ll get used to us,” Changbin said, assuredly, shooting Jeongin a look.

Jeongin bit his lip before nodding. A moment went by before Chris shrugged off whatever worry he had and started reading through the worn away menu.

When they’d all figured out what they wanted, Chris hooked his hand around Jisung’s arm and yanked him up. They went together to the bar to order and realised that the only person left was the old man, his drink nearly finished now.

A different boy stood at the bar, staring almost unblinkingly at them. There was something radiating from him, and though it wasn’t powerful, it was strong. Jisung was thrown off, his whole body jerking away from the bar counter. Sensing the same sort of feeling, Chris strode right up to the bar and rested his elbow on it, startling the old man beside him. The boy’s stare seemed to falter.

“We’re ready to order,” Chris said, voice a notable octave deeper and smoother than before.

The boy’s hand flew to the back of his neck before he nodded quickly, eyes dropping. “Yes, of- of course.”

Jisung wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, so he lay a hand on Chris’ arm and whined, “Dad.”

The boy stared at Jisung then, as if truly acknowledging him for the first time. A flash of something passed between them, like a quiet breeze, startling the air. Chris began to tell the boy his order, and all was pushed aside for the sake of greasy chips and tall glasses of coke.

* * *

Jisung rarely had nightmares anymore. It had been a good year since the last one, but it hit him harder than most – a bone-deep ache, slipping cold blood between the slats of his memories, glass pushing into his eyes until all he could feel was the whispering hollowness of his past. Ever since then, he had only felt the shivers of bad dreams, and he couldn’t remember them by morning.

But barely a week into his new home and this sickly, rancid ache buried into his dreams, tearing him apart slowly. He was both awake and not, present and far. It _hurt_.

_(Crushed shadows, honey on toast, and a song like fog.)_

He knew he was thrashing and shaking, and he knew someone was calling his name. He could feel home beneath his fingertips, but a waking thunder roared in the bone of his skull.

_(A thunderous fight, two people colliding, one never standing up again.)_

A quiet whisper began to rise in his mind, clouding over the dark, half-conscious pain that was his nightmare. A figure began to appear from the cavern of shadows in his mind, wispy and fluid like smoke. It curled around the corners of his mind and whispered.

_(“The King is home, and he brings with him three princes. Don’t forget about the storming sea, fairy.”)_

“Jisung!”

He startled awake, his nightmare slipping away. The empty dark that had shrouded him in blood-chilling agony cleared away, and only Chris’ concerned face was clear before him.

“Dad,” he whispered, hands scrambling to wrap around Chris, “Dad, it hurts. It _hurts_.”

There was rustling, and Changbin’s voice rose in the hush of the room. Jisung let out a broken sob, all the energy inside him ebbing away in trails of rot and decay. He felt unimaginably weak.

“Do you remember what the nightmare was about?” Chris asked, wiping Jisung’s tears with a steady but gentle touch.

Jisung nodded, the back of his hand wiping the fat tears that had fallen down to his chin and neck. “I do. But the nightmare was weird and broken. It doesn’t make sense.”

After collecting his breath, Jisung told Chris (and Changbin, who had curled up at the end of his bed) about the fragmented nightmare. He told them about the strange darkness that swallowed him up, and the saccharine memories of honey on toast, memories so trivial and simple they hardly fit into the swamp of his nightmare. There was a song, too, clouded and distant and grey.

Then the fight – two strangers, basked in a milky light, shouting from a high place which Jisung couldn’t reach. They collided, and one of them fell. Somehow, Jisung had felt the rage that rang between the two lone figures.

He told them about the agony and pain, bone-deep and poisonous in his own mind. It wrenched him from his very core and hurled him deep into piteous shadows. It crawled, still, on his skin.

“Then a voice like silk had said something about a King coming home and bringing three princes with him,” Jisung said, head now in the crook of Chris’ neck as he played with Changbin’s cold fingers. “And then it said, ‘don't forget about the storming sea, fairy.’ And then I woke up.”

Changbin clasped his hand loosely, eyes foggy. A daisy sprung from the tip of his finger, and he picked it off before twining it in the curls of Jisung’s hair with a languid smile.

“This is a different sort of nightmare,” Chris said stonily. “It sounds like a warning.”

Jisung stiffened, but he figured as much. He didn’t want to ponder on it all, for warnings in the form of painful nightmares were hard to discern and probably not meant to be taken literally. That meant Jisung was in deep water, lost and afraid. All he wanted to know at this point was why him? Of all people, why him? Why his family?

“Chris, do you know what this could be about or?” Changbin asked, eyes tinged emerald in the moonlight as geraniums bloomed in his hair.

Chris shook his head. “Nothing really comes to mind. I’ll think about it in the morning. You two need to sleep now, okay? Or, try, at least.”

Chris’ lips pressed against Jisung’s temple, as soft as furled petals, before pulling away and getting up. As he did, Changbin yanked a flower from his hair, wincing only slightly, before dropping it into the glass of water Jisung kept by his bed for any flowers that his brothers gifted him.

Though sleep came roughly and slowly, it came, and with it came the smell of flowers and honey and brine. A lullaby sung in Jisung’s head, but he was asleep before he could wonder who was singing.

* * *

The beach was rather inviting, actually. Jisung had a few days until he had to start school, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. With Chris busy fixing the house, and Changbin on a hunt for jobs, there was little Jisung and Jeongin could do at home. They could explore the huge, endless magic house, or they could do something far safer, like go for a walk.

It was only when their toes dipped into the coarse golden sand did Jisung remember his nightmare and its silky warning.

_(Don’t forget about the storming sea, fairy.)_

“Are you coming?” Jeongin called, already racing towards the water, hair swept across his face and eyes ablaze.

Jisung grinned, waving his shoes above his head as he shouted back, “Wait for me!”

The water was chilly, but it only stung if Jisung stuck his toes in it for too long. They both rolled their trousers up to their knees and chucked their shoes in the sand. Gentle waves bit at their toes and lapped against their legs, sending goosebumps running along their skin. Not even the rushing sea wind in their hair could deter them from the welcoming sea.

Jeongin giggled, dipping his fingertips in the water. “This is nice.”

“What are you doing here?”

Both boys straightened up, eyes landing on a boy stood not too far from where they were. Jisung couldn’t remember seeing him there before, but he was sure he would have heard it if someone approached them. Yet here he stood, this boy with water up to his thighs, waves of black hair curled around his eyes. He glared at them with a storm within them, face marred with a beautiful frown, like the harsh yet soft surface of the chalk cliffs.

“What?” Jeongin replied, retreating from the water to stand where it was warm and dry.

However, Jisung remained buried in the water, his legs trembling as the waves doused him in ice. The boy held his stare, and something dark rolled over his face.

“I said, what are you doing here? As in, why are you in my town?” he asked, tone delicately rough.

Jisung squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. “We moved into our father’s family home. What’s it to you?”

“You aren’t welcome here, fairy,” the boy said, dragging his legs out of the water. “Leave us alone.”

For a moment, nobody said anything. However, Jisung could feel his blood boiling, and the incredulous look on Jeongin’s face told him he was shocked, too.

“Who are you to tell us if we’re welcome or not? Why should we leave?” Jisung spluttered, following the boy out the water and up the beach. He heard Jeongin chase him, their shoes clacking together as he held them and ran.

The boy refused to meet his eye, stalking up the beach. “I was raised here. My family know the magic of this land better than you, and that house is nothing but sad. You don’t belong here.”

It seemed as though the boy may be warning Jisung now, and his tone took a sharper, more anxious direction as he continued, “Go back to where you came from. It’s better for us all if you do.”

Jeongin caught up to them, huffing. “We would, except the people there tried to kill us, and nearly did, so we ran away. Now we’re here.”

The boy finally looked at them again, eyes wide. The storm within them crumbled.

“Oh.”

Jisung rolled his eyes as they all came to a stop by the promenade. “What’s so bad about us being here?”

The boy met his eyes, and a wave of ice slipped down Jisung’s back. His eyes stung with salt.

“Be careful, or you’ll find out,” the boy said, then turned and clambered onto the promenade.

“Cryptic bastard– hey! What’s your name?”

The boy let out a laugh, and Jisung was brought to a standstill. His legs wobbled, not because he was unbalanced, but because that laugh was oddly familiar, though he was sure he had never heard it before. The rocking gentleness of it, and the crushed beauty of his face was nostalgic in ways Jisung couldn’t comprehend. It was like watching the ocean open up to reveal all of its treasures.

“Hyunjin,” he called, “and don’t bother telling me yours. I know you both – Jisung and Jeongin Bang. Sons of the Ghost King, yeah? Two spoilt little princes.”

Jisung kicked a pebble in his direction, and it bounced off the back of the boy’s calf.

“You have no right to call us spoilt when you hardly know us!”

But the boy was gone now, disappearing in the lazy fog that rolled against the promenade. Jeongin tugged on Jisung’s sleeve, and they both slipped into their shoes, wincing at the rough discomfort of it. Though his blood boiled, his heart shook. There was something about that boy, Hyunjin, that called Jisung home.


	2. reuniting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "One of the other boys stepped close, and his eyes were the only thing Jisung could see. Scorching stars of familiarity and warmth, singeing the edge of Jisung’s very existence. He was driven deep into unfound memories, scarred and bruised by time."

Jisung couldn’t remember the first time he met Chris. However, he knew he had been dying. He knew that because the others told him about it. He had been dying, and it was all his mother’s fault.

Fairies tended to abandon their babies if they had broken wings or were born as twins or triplets. For Jisung, he was the latter. But he was born the earlier twin, so his brother had been abandoned in the forest instead of him. However, this actually proved to be lucky for his brother, who didn’t have to meet the fate Jisung did.

For six gruelling years, Jisung and his family were locked away in some strange cavern where all was dark and gloomy and small. As fairies of light and day and nature, this would slowly kill them all. Jisung was too young to know where he was, but he was raised in the gloom and shadow for those long six years. He was only occasionally brought out into the light, just to keep him alive.

A bargain had been struck, and apparently his mother had sold him out as bait to lure some grimy, foul monster from within the cavern. In exchange, she was freed, and her husband was killed.

Whatever the monster had been, it attacked six-year-old Jisung, and nearly killed him. If not for Chris, he would have died. It was also fortunate that Chris had snuck in and watched the entire exchange so that he didn’t have to spend any of his present days missing his mother.

The only things Jisung could remember years down the line of his childhood were the faces of his parents, though now darker and foggier, the story of his twin brother (told by his father), and Chris nursing him back to health. All else from before had vanished, and he was glad for it.

Other than the small moment of being nursed back to health, Jisung had no memories of the event or of his frail childhood. All his memories were of Chris and Changbin and Jeongin, glittering like streaks of sunlight on the white rubbed corner of an old book. His memories were as sweet as golden honey or blackberry jam spready thickly onto nearly burnt toast, which was the best breakfast Chris had ever made for them when they were kids.

It was said that fairy twins separated at birth would recognise each other at first glance. For a long time, Jisung dreamed of meeting his brother. He wondered if they looked the same. If their noses were the same and their hair the same shade of brown. He wondered if his twin brother was short like him, or if he was fast and agile like him, or if he liked to explore strange places and dance in big empty rooms. He wondered if his brother could fly high with strong gossamer wings, a thing Jisung could only dream about; his wings were too weak and soft to carry him for long.

He had only ever dreamed of his brother and how they would meet, the glowing sparkle in their eyes as they stumbled across each other in a busy market or at the edge of some whispering forest.

He never thought his dream would come true, or that it would be on his first day of school, locked in a glare with Hyunjin.

Honestly, Jisung was only mad at Hyunjin because the boy kept glaring at him. Hyunjin was mad because Jisung was still in the same town as him, and now they went to the same school and shared a form.

Jisung had felt this tingle in his spine for a while, arm slung around Jeongin’s shoulder as they tried to find a place to sit during lunch. He spotted Hyunjin sat under a tree with two other boys, and tried to steer the other way, when Hyunjin called out their names.

In a flash, Jisung and Hyunjin were face-to-face.

“I said to leave,” Hyunjin snapped.

Jisung crossed his arms, Jeongin glued to his back as they refused to budge.

“Leave!”

The strange tingle running up and down his spine suddenly leapt into his throat, filling his head with static and mush. There was an ache in his fingertips, and his breathe got caught in his throat.

One of the other boys stepped close, and his eyes were the only thing Jisung could see. Scorching stars of familiarity and warmth, singeing the edge of Jisung’s very existence. He was driven deep into unfound memories, scarred and bruised by time.

“Felix, what–” Hyunjin said, but he cut himself off with a gasp. “No way.”

The boy, Felix, was staring at Jisung. Neither of them moved. There was only thing dull pounding in Jisung’s skull and a breezy feeling sweeping through him. Then Felix reached out to touch his hand and everything went dark and quiet.

When the world stopped hiding in shadows again, Jisung found himself lying down by the tree, out of sight from the rest of the school. Leaves tickled his skin, sharp-edged and fuzzy.

Hyunjin had his knees up to his chin form where he sat next to Felix, who was just beginning to sit upright. The other boy was sat beside him, and soft hands in Jisung’s hair were all he needed to know where Jeongin was.

“What happened?” he asked, startling everyone.

Felix met his eyes before they welled up with tears that slipped down like droplets of silver rain.

“I think you just met your twin brother,” Jeongin whispered above him, hands going still. “Wow.”

Felix sat up, crawling over with an awed look in his eyes. Hyunjin followed him with his eyes, fingernails digging into his arms.

“I never thought I’d find you,” Felix said, unexpectedly deep, like grassy valleys between rolling hills covered in heather and honey sunlight. “I’ve always dreamed I would, though.”

Jisung sat up, too, turning to face Felix as the boy kneeled in front of him. He choked out a weak, “Me too. I- I thought the day would never come.”

Felix shook his head, eyes going wide. “I have so much to ask. Like, what are our parents like? Where did you live?”

Waves of worry hit Jisung, and only Jeongin’s hand on his could cool them.

“It’s, uh, complicated,” Jisung said, winding his fingers between the blades of rough grass. “After they abandoned you, we were kidnapped, I think. I grew up in a dark cavern where I never really developed properly as a fairy. I don’t remember most of it because, uh, trauma. It’s a really long story. But, you know, all the best guys have tragic back stories.”

He tried to play it off with a laugh, but Felix’s eyes curved in what seemed to be concern. “Wait, you never fully developed?”

“My wings are too weak to fly for long. I don’t bother anymore.”

Jeongin intertwined one of Jisung’s hands with his at the same time as Felix did. A couple blades of grass got caught between the strong press of their hands, but the sparks that flew were like flecks of water leaping from a gurgling river, caught in the glow of moonlight. It was the sort of deep magic that only connections like this could stir inside. Jisung’s torn and fragmented soul seemed to hum in happiness for the first time in a while.

The school bell rung out. Jisung was reminded that, while he had just been reunited with his long-lost twin brother, everyone else had ordinary lives and responsibilities to be getting on with. He had to join them now and pretend as if a live-changing discovery hadn’t just been made.

“Here, take my number, in case we don’t have many lessons together,” Felix said, pulling his phone out from his blazer pocket. “Do- Do you still live with our parents?”

There was a tainted worry in his tone, the sort of unease Jisung was familiar with - the sting of hoping and despairing all at once.

He shook his head, Felix’s phone going limp in his hands. “Mum sold me to be bait for a monster attack for her own freedom. Dad was killed.”

Glass embedded itself in the soft skin of Jisung’s throat, sharply pulling together with each breath. Felix’s eyes darted around, glassy.

“I guess that’s unsurprising if they were the type to abandon a second child for superstitious reasons,” he said, sounding considerably less upset than Jisung expected. “Come on Hyunjin, Seungmin.”

Jisung had forgotten they weren’t alone. Hyunjin’s expression was less dark and bitter than before, but he ignored Jisung when Felix slung his arm around his shoulders. The other boy, Seungmin, seemed oddly familiar.

“Ah, you work at that pub, don’t you?” Jeongin gasped, snapping his fingers at Seungmin.

He paused, then nodded. “It’s our family’s pub. All three of us live there with our older brother and dad. You should visit more often.”

His gentle smile was a stark contrast to Hyunjin’s sour scowl.

“We will! Oh, but sorry that our dad kind of like spooked the other guy that time, he does that when he’s protective,” Jeongin said, rubbing his arm sheepishly.

Seungmin and Felix both let out laughs, a breeze sweeping between them and rustling their hair. Something shiny and vibrant fluttered between them; a butterfly, maybe.

“That was Minho, our brother. He gets protective when magic folk come by,” Felix explained gently. “Don’t worry, he only sulked a little bit. He likes to think he’s really strong, but he’s not really.”

* * *

It was decided that, at the end of that long and tiring school day, Felix couldn’t possibly return home. Jeongin had the splendid idea of inviting him to their house, but in turn Seungmin and Hyunjin insisted on tagging along. Unfortunately.

Seungmin was sweet but he made a lot of sharp and playful comments that were actually funny. He was a little intimidating at times, but Jisung figured he was mostly harmless.

But of course, Jisung was more interested in Felix. He ignored Hyunjin mostly, who was sulking most of the bus ride up.

“If you live in such a big house, why don’t you have a car that can pick us up or something?” he whined, squished between Seungmin and the window as he picked at the frayed end of his school jumper.

Jeongin looked at him. “We didn’t buy the house; it already belonged to us. We lived in a two-bedroom flat before this. Really, we aren’t rich or anything.”

Hyunjin lowered his eyes, ignoring him. The bland, grey streets basked in pale afternoon light were far more interesting, it seemed.

“Dad says you can stay for dinner if you want,” Jisung piped up, watching as three pairs of eyes whipped to his immediately. “Or not?”

Felix shook his head rapidly, squishing his hand between both of his. “No, no. It’s just that we haven’t had homecooked food in forever.” He pulled a face, turning to his brothers. “I wish we had brought Minho along now.”

Hyunjin scoffed. “You think Dad will let us stay for dinner at a stranger’s house? He’ll kill us.”

His tone wasn’t playful or teasing, but instead it was harsh and foul and souring. It buried deep in Jisung’s heart as he slowly began to realise something. Instead of commenting on it, he decided he ought to wait until they weren’t wiggled together in paired seats on a half-filled bus afterschool.

The further they went from the town, the more people got off until eventually it was just them five. The last stop was a short walk away from the house.

As they reached the front garden of the grand manor, Changbin climbed out of their old car and waved. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the group, who were staring at the house and him with a strange amazement.

“Made friends already?” he asked, voice rough and quiet.

Jisung took Felix’s hand and waved their clasped hands above their heads. “Changbin! I found my twin brother!”

Changbin’s stare was almost comical, bugling eyes and a hung-open mouth. His eyes darted from one boy to the next.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Jisung nodded. “It was like magic.”

“Well, duh. Jeez. That’s intense.”

Changbin seemed to be taking it differently than Jeongin or Jisung. For Jeongin, he seemed to be just moving with the moments, accepting all the things that were coming from it. His eyes were always on them, bright and new and in awe. For Jisung, he was still trying to process what had happened, how it had happened, and the very moments of it happening. He was mostly just elated.

Changbin seemed unsure. He seemed to believe Jisung well enough that Felix really was his twin, but perhaps he wasn’t sure how he should react. His eyes followed them with uncertainty and apprehension, clouded with something Jisung couldn’t read.

“So, your dad,” Seungmin began, eyes flittering upwards as they walked through the front doors, “isn’t your real dad. How did he come to be, you know, your dad?”

Changbin made a noise in the back of his throat. “He saved us all. Then he adopted us.”

“He saved me from that monster,” Jisung elaborated, looping his arm with Felix’s. “He snuck in after figuring out that something weird was happening. He was initially just stopping by with the other two because they were on the run.”

“On the run?” Jisung startled when Hyunjin spoke because he hadn’t said a word for nearly ten minutes. “From what?”

“Well, as the last remaining heir of the Ghost Queen, a lot of people were hoping that with his death, they’d be given the throne,” Changbin said. “That didn’t really work in the end, but it all ended when his mother died.”

Hyunjin made a round ‘o’ with his mouth, hands knitted together behind his back. His eyes danced from the dusty portraits and faded wallpaper walls to the beaten rugs and the ancient family memorabilia sitting on lonely corner tables and mantlepieces.

“How old is this house?” Felix asked.

Jeongin tripped over a cat toy with an ‘oof’ sound. “It’s like hundreds of years old. It belonged to some boring white family before Chris’ great-something grandmother cursed the man who cheated on her and took his house.”

Seungmin snorted, clapping his hands. “She sounds wonderful. I love her already.”

A crash came from one of the rooms, and suddenly Chris was backing out of it with his apron twisted and flour down the back of his knitter jumper. He coughed, waving his hands through the air, before sighing deeply.

He looked up and noticed the six of them stood there, staring at him.

“Oh, hello,” he said, grinning as he wiped his hands on his apron. “I was just looking for my great-aunt’s recipe book, but I found some cursed amulet instead. Her ghost is _really_ annoying.”

Jisung wiped the flour off his back, pulling a face. “Didn’t she used to paint her lips with the blood of like squirrels or something?”

“Yeah, but she made an absolutely divine stew. She’s dead now so what’s the harm.”

Jeongin cleared his throat, and everyone turned to him. He gestured with his eyes darting between Felix and Jisung, who suddenly remembered why he was here in the first place.

“Ah, Dad, this is Felix, my twin brother!” he exclaimed.

Chris blinked at him. “Oh, you really weren’t kidding. Oh wow. Well, hello, Felix. And others.” He squinted his eyes at Seungmin. “Hey, we know you.”

“From the pub, yeah. Sorry about my brother, he likes to intimidate magic people who could be a threat.”

They swiftly moved on. Jisung decided to take them exploring around the house. Chris and Changbin disappeared elsewhere, leaving the five of them to mess around in the endless hallways and strange nooks of the house. They got lost twice before stumbling into some obscure, shadowy room that immediately made all the hair on Jisung’s arms stand up like ice.

“Bad room. Let’s lock that one,” he said, chuckling nervously.

“I think that was Dad’s cousin’s room. You know, the one who like went crazy and buried himself alive in that secret basement room?” Jeongin said, scratching his neck until it was red. “Just thinking about him gives me the creeps.”

Seungmin squeezed Hyunjin’s arm. “This place isn’t exactly safe, is it?”

Jisung shrugged. “It’s safe, just got a lot of bad history. Let’s move on.”

* * *

Chris prepared dinner early for them. The kitchen itself was huge, big enough for at least a dozen people to be able to dance around it and make dinner for the hundreds. But Chris somehow didn’t look tiny as he stood alone, stirring two pots on the stove. There was flour on his temple and his hands smelt of garlic when he pinched Jisung’s cheek. Chris just had that effect, filling a large space with himself in a way that was both comforting and terrifying.

He pointed them in the direction of the dining room, which was far too big a room for them. This was one of the only rooms in the house fully furnished. After Chris’ mother died, he had as much of the furniture in the house either destroyed or sold (after cleansing it all) for money. He said something about bad energy collecting in dead houses if left alone for too long, too. But he kept the dining room as it was, staring at the polished table with a nostalgic melancholy.

Seungmin whistled. “I thought you said you weren’t rich.”

“We aren’t,” Changbin’s voice spoke up, startling them. “This is old stuff. Chris grew up with it all, so he just kept it around. Everything else was cleansed and sold or destroyed for money or whatever.”

Hyunjin flattened his palm against the table, eyes staring down at his glossy reflection.

“This house feels heavy,” he whispered, eyes staring deeper. “How could it ever be a home?”

Changbin straightened up, staring at him. It wasn’t the sort of hardened glare that Jisung gave the boy, nor was it the blanketed understanding at his brothers had to offer. It wasn’t as inquisitive as Jeongin’s stare, but it was curious. Changbin was trying to figure out all the puzzle pieces of Hyunjin Lee.

“It used to be a home. To Chris, it was home. It’s not been loved for a long time.”

Hyunjin looked up, their eyes meeting for a flickeringly cold moment. Then Changbin turned around, socked feet padding out into the hallway and back to the kitchen.

They all sat down as Jeongin drew the curtains closed at the glass doors. His hands lingered on the rigid material, staring out at the barren garden with longing. As he finally sat, Chris walked in with a large pot, Changbin in tow.

“Right, hope you all like slightly charred chicken and some weird stew,” he said, wincing at the heat. “It’s nothing like Great-Aunt Jieun’s but it’ll do.”

The dinner was mildly awkward. Felix and Jisung were lost in their own world of glitter and delight, content to be overjoyed with relief. Chris’ glances around the table were a little off-putting, though.

“So, Felix,” he said after some time, “what happened to you?”

Felix tilted his head before his face cleared with understanding. Then it became shadowy.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “my mother was a witch. She wanted lots of magical children, but after Minho, she found out it would be too dangerous to have any more. So, she went to adopt children instead. I was found in the forest by some passing stranger and adopted not too long after. The others were pretty much the same.”

Hyunjin slammed his cup down on the table, glaring at it. Everyone stared at him until he said, “She died. And now our dad is horrible. End of story.”

Chris drew in a breath, making Hyunjin look up at him with an unfurling rage in his eyes. But he met the softness of Chris’, meaningful and deep, like peering into a welcoming abyss of promise. He was ensnared by it.

“What are you?” Hyunjin asked, trying to sound bitter and curt, but his voice broke and shook towards the end, the brittle edge melting into pools of weary longing.

Chris chuckled softly. “A lot of things. I’m Christopher Bang. I’m a shapeshifter- well, half. I’m the Ghost King, as they say. I’m also a father of three – these three gits here.” He pinched Changbin’s arm, making him yelp. “You have no idea how in touch I am to the magic in this area.”

That was Hyunjin’s moment to flush pink, cheeks dusted as he lowered his gaze. “Ah, right.” He paused. “I still think you should leave. It’s dangerous for you to be here. I can feel it.”

Before Chris could speak, or Jisung could snap, Felix spoke up. “Hyunjin is half merman. He knows when dark things come here better than the rest of us.”

Chris propped his head in his free hand, the other balancing his chopsticks loosely between his fingers. His eyes clouded over, pupils pushing as far as they could before his eyes seemed to settle on Hyunjin again.

“I think you’re right.” He sat up again, smiling. “We probably shouldn’t be here. I knew there was something weird and dark here, but I had hoped we didn’t bring it.”

“Wait, no, I don’t think you brought it,” Hyunjin exclaimed, waving his hands in front of him. “It’s following you, I think, but it’s not your fault. It’s just, well, this place isn’t the best place to be if some evil being is following you around.”

Chris nodded slowly in understanding. “Okay, I get that. But if anything, being in this house is the safest bet for anyone magical. Sure, it’s creepy and a little tainted. But it’s infused with strong magic, and now I live here. I’m not scared.”

Chris said that final line with such resoluteness and certainty that even Jisung wasn’t sure why he had any need to feel nervous. The air shimmered for a moment, as if the spirits of his ancestors were cheering him on in pride.

“You’re not scared? At all?” Felix said in a small voice.

Chris shook his head. “After the life I’ve lived? How could I possibly be afraid of an evil being that hasn’t confronted me yet? Sounds like cowardice.”

Jeongin snorted, head flung back in laughter. A few daffodils blossomed in his hair, twirling around the locks of his soft brown hair. His fingertips were tinged green when he drew them up onto the table to fiddle with the end of his chopsticks and the rim of his bowl.

“Oh, you’re a dryad?” Felix chirped, pointing at Jeongin’s hair. “I’ve never met one before.”

“Really?” Changbin said. “I’m a dryad, too.”

He copied Jeongin’s daffodils, a large one sprouting from the palm of his hand. He picked it off (barely wincing at the obvious discomfort that must have caused him) and offered it to Felix. Jeongin yanked two out from his hair and gave one to Seungmin and the other to Hyunjin.

“There, a gift from two dryads,” he said, grinning.

Chris put down his glass. “So, Felix is a fairy, obviously. And Hyunjin is a mermaid. You?”

“Ah, a witch,” Seungmin said. “Just like Minho, our oldest brother. Except that I’m adopted and he’s the only birth child of your parents.”

A bitter look passed over his face for a moment. Hyunjin pinched his wrist.

“Minho’s the only one our dad tolerates,” Felix explained, dodging Hyunjin’s raised hand. “Dad’s so mean now that Mum’s dead. I think he’s actually afraid of magic now.”

“Doesn’t really give him a right to hit us, though,” came Seungmin’s quiet voice. “Stop it, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin lowered his hand, face pulled into a foul frown. He scowled, ignoring everyone as best he could.

It was only when Lucky came bumbling into the room did he look up. She hopped into Jeongin’s lap, nibbling on bits of chicken he fed her when he thought Chris was looking. He sighed deeply.

“Our house is always open if you need to run away and hide,” Chris offered, authenticity spilling from his eyes. “You and your other brother are all welcome here, no matter what.”

Lucky meowed loudly and that was that.


	3. stirring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Chan’s laughter rang out through the kitchen, before changing into something much more melodic. Eerie, even. It was a man singing, his gentle lullaby so frail and weak in the echo of the dark."

_Jisung was stood in the middle of the empty manor. When he blinked, the manor was no longer empty, now swarming with people and noise and colour. An explosion of light brought him into another room, this one filled with more people than the last._

_A toddler was bouncing in his mother’s lap. The mother looked strangely familiar, and even the toddler seemed to be reaching through Jisung’s memories. It was only when he saw the father ruffle the toddler’s hair did he recognise that dimpled smile and that head of curly brown hair._

_“Dad?” he whispered, staring down at the giggling toddler, but his voice was caught between the air, which seemed to move like liquid._

_As he tried to step closer, a woman moved to block him, her eyes mean and bulging. They were glowing silver._

_“Well, fairy?” she bellowed in Korean, hands on her hips. “Are you home now? Are you going to be happy now?”_

_Jisung spluttered. “What?”_

_She sighed, then waved her hands._

_The dream changed. He saw Chan spreading honey on nearly burnt toast, smile sheepish but bright. Grubby hands reached up, and Chan cut the toast into squares before giving them to a much smaller, ruddy-faced Jisung._

_“Say ‘thank you’,” he said, patting Changbin on the head briefly._

_“Thank you!” Jisung exclaimed before munching on the toast, crumbs splattering across the table._

_Chan’s laughter rang out through the kitchen, before changing into something much more melodic. Eerie, even. It was a man singing, his gentle lullaby so frail and weak in the echo of the dark. Jisung was lost, hands grabbing for something. He hated the dark, not sure where the shadows were._

_“It’s okay, Jisungie, go to sleep,” the voice crooned, splintering his song in two._

_Then came the sound of fierce, crashing waves, like cliffs splitting apart or thunder cracking in the abyss above. The pain followed after._

* * *

The day after his nightmare, Jisung decided to spend his day wandering. He asked Chris where the graveyard was, and he pointed it out on the Google Maps Jisung pulled up. From there, it was a ten-minute bus ride and some exploring before he reached it.

Chris told him that his mother, Jisung’s grandmother, was buried somewhere in the graveyard. He used to wonder why the family didn’t have their own private graveyard or something, being Ghost Royals, but apparently there was balance to be kept in order and the best way to do that was to be buried with the non-magic people of the town.

The entrance of the graveyard was wide and decorated with flowers. The beaten gravel path crunched beneath his boots, and he pulled his coat tighter around him as the temperature dropped.

Most of the graves were sunken into the ground, the names and dates fading into the abandoned headstones. Lots of the land seemed to be empty, until half a headstone popped up from nowhere. It was pretty sad.

Jisung eventually found his grandmother’s grave. It was quite simple, but it was clear that she was no ordinary person. Even in death, she was a Queen, and so her grave upheld that very truth.

A cough startled him from staring at her grave. He turned his head and caught sight of a familiar face, though he struggled to put a name to it at first.

The man stood beside him, quirking his head at the grave. Then he looked back at Jisung.

“I’m Minho Lee,” he said, hands burrowing into the warmth of his pockets. “We met at the pub, remember? And my brothers went to your house yesterday.”

Jisung lifted his chin in a realising motion. “Ah, yeah. Hello.”

Minho chuckled, the sound crisp and delicate in the bitterly cold melancholy. He crouched down in front of the grave, humming.

“Is this a relative of yours?” he asked, standing up again. “She looks as though she were important.”

“She was,” Jisung said, a little wistfully. “She was my grandmother, the Ghost Queen. I’m sure the others mentioned that to you about my dad.”

Minho squared his shoulders. “Yeah, Seungmin laughed at me and said I was silly to have tried to out-glare the Ghost fucking King. Whatever.” He smiled when Jisung barked out a laugh. “You’re not as nearly as obnoxious as Hyunjin says you are.”

“Me? He’s the obnoxious one.”

“Jeez, nevermind. You two are both annoying.”

They stood in silence for another moment, staring at the grave. Eunhee Bang, it read, in cursive letters. The family crest – a cat with two crows on either side of it and surrounded by carnations – sat above her name, carved deep into the marble.

“So, you’re Felix’s twin brother?” Minho piped up.

Jisung nodded, fingers tingling. “Found out last week. I still feel like I’m dreaming.”

_(“Are you home now?”)_

Jisung shook the ringing from his ears, sniffing as his nose was nipped away by the cold.

“Wanna come see my mother’s grave?”

The invitation was startling, but Jisung found himself following Minho just a little further on. The grave was pretty and well cared for. A crown of flowers sat atop her grave. It wasn’t as old as Jisung expected it to be, and the date confirmed she’d died only four years ago. Something heavy weighed down in his chest, hollow and bitter.

Minho sighed. “If only dad died instead of her.”

“Hey, you know if it gets really bad, our house is free?” Jisung said, wincing back at the strange glare Minho sent him. “I mean, like- just that, you know, you aren’t alone. It’s just- ugh, look, all of us in my family know what it’s like to be hurt by family or people close to us. And you all deserve better, I dunno. Our house is safe, though. Sorry.”

Minho slung an arm around his shoulder (with some difficulty, thanks to their coats), and started laughing. An old man passing by shot them an odd look.

“It’s okay, sorry, I shouldn’t have glared at you,” Minho said. “Thanks. I’ll take you up on that offer someday, just to see how much safer it is.”

* * *

When Jisung got back, he was met with a stranger on their doorstep. Another car was parked beside Chris’, much newer and cleaner than the withering machine of theirs. The man wore a long coat to keep the fading Winter cold away, but his bare hands hung loose at his side as he stared at the house.

As Jisung approached, the man turned his head to look at him. There was something familiar about his eyes; they held this presence of warmth and wonder.

“Jisung?” he said, turning his body now.

Jisung blinked, scrunching up his shoulders. “Uh, yes?”

The man shook his head, chuckling a little. “Ah, I shouldn’t have expected you to remember me. You were only, what, eight when we met? It’s me, Uncle Jinyoung.”

Memories of a man around Chris’ age picking Jeongin up and hoisting him onto his shoulders sprung to life. Snow-dipped trees and unblemished streets of white made the man glow like a star as he waved to them, either in a goodbye or a hello. There was sadness in Chris’ eyes when he was gone.

Just then, there was a crashing sound, muffled by the walls of the house. The doors flung open, revealing a bright, grinning Chris.

“Chris!” Jinyoung called as they collided in a hug. “Look at you! Missed you.”

Chris wrangled his cousin into a side-hug, still beaming. “Sorry, had to keep a low profile.”

They walked into the house together, and Jisung was hit with the smell of baking and cinnamon. There was a fresh, almost grassy smell, too, that drew him to the back doors and out into the garden.

Winter was only beginning to fade, so the buds of Spring had yet to fully bloom. Despite that, the two dryads of the house were crouching between bundles of nettle, entangled webs of bare bushes, and barren dirt. Gentle hands swept through the plants, whispering words of encouragement.

The decaying corpses of the plants began to lift or sink, trying to meet the energy and love that the dryads fed them. Thousands of daisies had sprung along the grass, dandelions blooming with each step they took.

Jeongin had woven flower crowns from the daisies and dandelions, one in his hair, one in Changbin’s, and two more lying out on the grass.

“Does your favourite uncle not get a crown, too?” Jinyoung asked, pouting comically.

Jeongin leapt up, shouting, “Uncle Jinyoung!” and was swirled into a hug. Changbin came in for a short hug, and then Jinyoung swept his arms around Jisung, too. They were all bundled into one big hug, Chris latching on somewhere to the side.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Changbin use magic like that,” Jinyoung said.

Changbin grinned. “I’ve learned a lot since we last saw you.”

As they chatted, Jisung crouched down beside a droopy blueberry bush, the leaves brown and thick between his fingers. He tried to muster up all he could inside of him, filling every inch of his soul with love. He even scrunched his eyes up. All his willpower was going into rejuvenating this poor plant.

When he opened his eyes, the leaf had turned green. Other than that, there was no change. His excitement dampened immediately, his hand falling onto the grass in disappointment.

“Jisung,” Changbin’s voice came, soft but not pitying.

Jisung looked over to where he was standing, only to have his vision blocked by something solid and tall and covered in dark brown grooves and bumps.

Looking up, he realised a tree had grown where his other hand lay on the grass, balancing him. It was tall, taller than Jisung, and the branches long but bare. But as he looked closer, something thrilling and tingly dancing in his blood, he noticed the buds sprouting at the ends of the thin twigs.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ve never done that before,” he whispered, peeking his house out from behind the trunk to stare at his family. “Did I really do that?”

Jeongin jogged up to him, flattening his palms against the tree. “Fairies don’t really do magic like that, though.”

“He didn’t grow anything, he just healed the tree,” Chris explained. “Maybe you didn’t notice it, but there was part of it still there. It was cut down when I was little. Fairies can heal people and animals and even plants.”

“But my magic is so weak,” Jisung said, voice shaking. “ _How_?”

Jinyoung took a moment to stare at the top of the tree’s bare branches. “Maybe living here will do all of you some good. The magic here is hidden and old, but it’s strong enough to heal you all.”

Jisung thought about his wings – weak, fragile, gossamer things, drooping behind him, so frail that the wind snapped them close if he didn’t stand strong. He remembered flying only as high as the trees in the forest they once lived besides, willing himself to fly faster and higher. But he wobbled, wings so weak and heavy, and Chris had to catch him when he fell.

“I hope so.”

Jinyoung was going to stay with them for the next few weeks. His parents had moved him out of the manor when he and Chris were quite young, but his old room was fairly intact. Chris and he were quite distant cousins, related through Chris’ great aunt’s son, but they were closer than Chris had been with any of his other cousins on his mother’s side. He was also one of the only people in Chris’ family left alive, other than his cousin Ryujin and her parents.

Family dinners were detailed by family stories, whimsical tales both melancholy and exciting. The spookier stories were overlapped with fondness for the people involved. There was another sort of magic in the house: the magic of memories.

“The last ghost I saw was a few months ago,” Jinyoung said, leaning back in his chair. “It was a little girl who’d been dead for maybe eighty years. Frightened me a little, actually.”

Changbin whipped his head up. The others, too, became interested.

Chris snorted. “Well, lucky you. Not a day goes by when I don’t see a ghost, especially in this house.”

“Wait, Uncle Jinyoung, you don’t see ghosts?” Jeongin asked.

He shook his head. “Not as much as you lot would. I’m distant family from the heir line.”

“And I see far more ghosts than anyone else, especially since becoming King,” Chris said, hands dancing in the air as if he was gesturing to ghosts around him. He probably was. “Sungie sees more ghosts in his dreams, though.”

Jisung twisted his lips in some sort of lopsided frown. “Dad’s grandmother seemed to be having a go at me last night. Dunno what her deal was.”

Jinyoung laughed at that. “Ah, Great-aunt Misun. Always shouting at someone, especially when she’s trying to show she cares about them.”

There was a whispering breeze, light but sharp as it ruffled the curtains drawn over the glass backdoors. Jeongin jumped in his seat, but the others all laughed.

* * *

Jisung was tired at the end of each day. He hated school already, especially with all the work he had to catch up on. Year Ten wasn’t easy, but he was glad he wasn’t in Year Eleven like Hyunjin.

Ever since the day Jisung and Felix had reunited, the five of them had started sitting together during lunch. Jeongin, Felix and Jisung shared a lot of classes, but Seungmin was in the set above so his core lessons were spent without them. Hyunjin was in the year above, but he still had to see Jisung in assemblies.

They were sat together by the trees that lined the school fields, bunched up together while the other students sat in their circles or played football way too aggressively. Jeongin was weaving a crown out of daisies again, carefully pouring love into the ground as he picked each one.

“Do you always do magic so openly?” Hyunjin murmured, but he was less sharp-tongued than before.

Jeongin hardly cared, beaming brightly. “Nobody’s watching. Besides, it’ll just look like a kid making a crown from the daisies around him. It’s not like I’m making a crown out of sunflowers or something.”

Seungmin snorted, head leaning back onto the metal fence that surrounded the school fields.

A crack of thunder made them all startle. The clouds in the sky were soft and white, and the sky a brilliant blue, but the thunder had definitely been real. The other students looked up in confusion, searching for the storm clouds.

“Was that thunder?” Felix said, though they all knew it had been.

Hyunjin sat up more, fingers flattening and curling against his palms as if he were scratching them. A murky glossiness filled his eyes, the shadows of his face drawing closer until he looked almost sunken and pallid. Then he blinked rapidly, drawing in a sharp breath, and his shoulders sagged.

“A storm is coming,” he said croakily. “Not a normal storm; a magic one. Be ready, princes.”

Jisung swallowed. “Do you know when it will come?”

“Sometime this week, maybe even tonight.”

A horrible, molten feeling swam through Jisung. His bones melted like ice to water, but his blood froze like water to ice. He didn’t realise he had fallen against Felix until he was sat upright, Jeongin’s eyes scrunched up in worry.

A bird chirped nearby. _Don’t be scared._

“I’m not scared,” he mumbled, confusing everyone but Felix. “I feel wrong.”

The bird fluttered down onto the lowest branch of one of the trees, sat just above his head. It was a blackbird, head jerking to face him. It chirped again.

_Someone brought the storm. They want you to feel pain._

“Me? Just me?”

_Maybe. I don’t know._

The blackbird flew off, its dark wings hiding between the shadows as it slipped through the rustling leaves. Jisung watched disappear, sudden exhaustion swimming in his limbs.

“The bird said someone brought the storm,” Felix said, tentatively. “I think they want to hurt Jisung, but I’m not sure. The bird didn’t really know, either.”

Jeongin took Jisung’s hand in his. His eyes were glowing, literally, with a hundred stars embedded into his skin. A green tinge circled his eyes, and tiny buttercups were wiggling through his hair, demanding to be seen. Seungmin and Hyunjin startled, propping themselves up to shield him.

“Nobody is going to hurt you,” he promised, hands trembling around Jisung’s. “Dad won’t let them.”

Jisung nodded, running his free hand through Jeongin’s hair until he had shaken out all the buttercups.

“I know, Innie,” he said quietly. “Dad has never let any of us get hurt before.”

The others exchanged glances over their heads. Jisung ignored them because he knew Jeongin was right. No matter what this was or how wrong he felt, Chris wouldn’t let them get hurt. That’s why they had moved here – to be safe. Never had Chris put them in dangerous situations on purpose before. He trusted that all would be well.

The only thing left to feel was confusion. Who wanted to hurt him? And why? Jisung couldn’t think what anyone would have against a fifteen-year-old fairy.

For the following couple days, he wondered. Chris had told him not to worry too much, but every rumble of thunder in the clear of day or in the depths of the starry night made him dizzy with anxiety. His heart leapt in his chest. This ominous fear was approaching him, and he couldn’t shoo it away.

Felix had similar troubles. In the night, after crackles of shrill thunder, he messaged Jisung with worries of himself and Jisung. It was strange to feel so close to his twin brother, to accept him so easily. After years and years of wondering when and if he would ever find him, they had finally met. Sometimes Jisung wanted to thank Hyunjin for being so rude and annoying. If not for him, he may have never found Felix.

But it was mostly Chris who should be thanked. He was surprisingly laid back about Jisung reuniting with his twin brother. Perhaps he had always known it would happen. Or maybe he was simply immune to odd happenings, like this storm that was slowly growing.

Over the next couple of days, dark clouds began to sweep by. They came and went in clusters, but they grew in size. The ordinary people brushed it off as just another weird British storm, but it was obvious who was magical and who wasn’t by the tensing and startling after each thunderclap.

Then the lightning came one night. It was sharp and wild and blinding. Jisung heard footsteps outside his room and knew it was Changbin, probably trying to find Chris’ room. But instead, he knocked on Jisung’s door and swung it open without waiting for an answer.

“Sungie? You awake?” he whispered.

“Yeah.”

There was more shuffling, and Changbin’s figure was illuminated by another lightning strike. His eyes were wild and wide.

Jisung opened his arms, pulling back the blanket, and Changbin wriggled in. They didn’t usually cuddle. In fact, Jisung hardly hugged him. But storms always made Changbin especially nervous. His past wasn’t pleasant, much like Jisung’s, but storms were the worst for him. Nobody made fun of him for it, just like how nobody mocked Jisung’s fear of the dark, or Jeongin’s attachment to cats.

The nightlight Jisung kept by his bed made Changbin look much softer. He laid his head down on Jisung’s shoulder, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He screwed them up with each crackle of thunder and spark of lightning, arms squeezing Jisung tight. But when he eventually drifted to sleep, Jisung knew he was okay. He fell asleep soon after, the dark behind his eyes flashing every few minutes.


	4. caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He followed the light to a pair of eyes staring right at him. Bright, glistening eyes, blue and brown swirling deep around the pupils. They blinked at him, watery and beautiful. It was Hyunjin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief mention of human trafficking!! also heck yeah have 2 chapters

Finally, the storm came. It began as a gentle rumble, unlike the harsh shrieks that erupted in the sky randomly in the day. The sky was grey on the day, clouds heavy and spread thickly above them.

As the day went by, the clouds grew darker. They were still eating lunch when they looked outside and realised the sky was plastered in darkness. It was as if night had fallen already. But between the gaps of the clouds were slithers of light, so that the world outside was skewed in a dark, dusky light.

The news was spinning some story about storms and recent weird phenomena throughout England. Whoever had brought the storm had clearly travelled far just to get to Jisung. He chewed on the end of his thumb, knees up to his chin as he watched the news anchor detail the latest troubles in the local towns.

“Sungie, make sure you stay inside, okay?” Chris said, patting him on the head before yanking his thumb out of his mouth. “And don’t sit here worrying. Go hang out with your brothers.”

He tried to ignore the ringing in his ears and the hushed whispering around him as he joined Changbin and Jeongin. They were painting one of the hallways in a brighter colour. The protective mat squeaked under his feet, and the paint was cold when it splattered against his fingers. Changbin’s laughter echoed down the hallway.

As the hours went by, Jisung was starting to wonder if the storm was ever going to hit them. It seemed to simply be rolling by, grotesquely festering in the abyss above, churning out dark clouds and rumbles. The sting of magic along his skin became dull and almost familiar as time went by.

It felt all too much like waiting. Perhaps this someone was waiting for Jisung to come out and be seen so that they could strike him down with one hit of lightning. If that was the case, he was willing to go out for just long enough to tease them, to figure out their plan.

There was a knock at the door, rapid and urgent. Changbin gave him a look that told him to stay, heading for the door. Chris met him out in the hallway. Jisung couldn’t help but pop his head around the doorway despite Jeongin’s cries to sit back down.

It was Felix, hair soaked against his forehead as he shook like a leaf. Behind him, Jisung saw Seungmin, Hyunjin and Minho, all also drenched and shivering in the cold. Chris hurried them in quickly.

“What happened?” Chris asked as Changbin dashed up the stairs for towels.

Felix squeezed Hyunjin’s hand. “We just- well, it didn’t feel safe at home. Dad got drunk. And- yeah. The storm is scary.”

A towel went flowing, hitting Felix in the chest. Three more followed, courtesy of Changbin. Hyunjin threw his over his head, rubbing gently with a scowl on his face, though it wasn’t directed at Changbin.

“Your dad got drunk?” Chris spluttered, crossing his arms. “Did he do anything?”

Hyunjin drew in a breath, but Minho beat him to it. “Yes. He always does something when drunk.”

That was when they all noticed the swollen indigo bruise bulging on Seungmin’s cheek. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, hands shaking as they squeezed the towel between them. Droplets of rain dribbled down over his swollen cheek, splattering against the wooden floor.

Despite how sopping wet Seungmin was, Chris took him into his arms, one hand around his back and the other in his hair. Though Seungmin stiffened at first, he relaxed in Chris’ hold as the seconds went by.

“It’s fine,” Seungmin murmured, but he sounded exhausted. “This happens all the time.”

“It shouldn’t,” Changbin retorted. Petunias were blooming in his hair, vibrant and angry. “It’s not right.”

Chris brought everyone into the living room. Having heard all the commotion, Jinyoung came downstairs with his dressing gown wrapped around him and an empty mug of tea in his hand. His eyes snapped to Minho and Seungmin.

“Witches?” he asked aloud. They nodded, sharing a glance. “Ah, I’m a wizard. I’m Chris’ cousin.”

“He’s visiting for a few weeks,” Chris elaborated, ushering them into the living room. “Wait, you should all change into dry clothes. I’ll get some from the boys’ rooms. And something for that bruise.”

Most of them had to borrow from Jeongin’s clothes because he was taller than Changbin and Jisung, and it was cute watching Felix walk in with Jeongin’s old pyjamas. He had stolen Jisung’s slippers, too, but he didn’t need them right now anyway.

Chris dabbed a cream onto Seungmin’s cheek with gentle touches. Jeongin’s cat leapt into Seungmin’s lap, purring softly as he winced. His eyes were swimming with tears as Chris finished, so Chris wiped away the stray ones that had slipped out.

The storm began to pick up, rain slashing through the sky, thunder shrieking and roaring, lightning dashing blindingly. Changbin turned the volume up on the TV, buried into Jeongin’s side until they were no spaces between them. Jeongin didn’t even try to push him away.

They joked around, told some stories, and a tin of biscuits emerged from somewhere halfway through it. Chris was trying to justify his strange collection of bug books. Jisung decided to poke fun of Jeongin’s fear of centipedes, which wasn’t even funny, but got the others laughing along with him.

Jeongin threw a pillow at Jisung, who huffed and laughed. Not even the cry of thunder outside could wipe the smile off their faces, though it faltered on Changbin’s for a moment.

Felix seemed to be about to say something when the light suddenly flickered out.

They were plummeted into complete darkness. The most sickening, dizzying feeling rose in Jisung, his heart hammering wildly in his ribcage. His skin crawled, hot and cold at the same time, and it stung with each intake of breath. His lungs were on fire.

He couldn’t think straight as he felt hands grab him. A shriek escaped him, breaking off into a wretched sob, and he shuffled away from the person next to him. He collided with someone else, a broken sound tearing out of his throat.

“Jisung!” Chris’ voice shouted, but it was gurgled and muffled against the blood in his ears.

Hands grabbed him again, this time stronger, and sparks of warmth jumped up and down his arms. He tried to sink into the sofa, breathing ragged and wild.

Then there was light. It was faint and tinted blue, but it instantly calmed Jisung’s raging heart. He put a hand on his chest, feeling the nauseating thump beneath his skin.

He followed the light to a pair of eyes staring right at him. Bright, glistening eyes, blue and brown swirling deep around the pupils. They blinked at him, watery and beautiful. It was Hyunjin.

“Jisung?” Felix’s voice came from behind him.

Jisung realised it was Felix’s hands on his arms, and he immediately burrowed into his hold. However, he refused to look away from Hyunjin’s eyes, which glowed so stunningly blue.

More light came in the form of candles sparking to life. Seungmin and Minho had their fingers pinched over the wicks of a couple candles sat across the mantlepiece. The room was doused in a warm honey glow, and Hyunjin’s eyes returned to normal.

“How did you do that?” Jisung croaked.

Hyunjin shrugged, shadows flickering across his face. “I’m half merman.”

There was some more shuffling, and Jisung looked over to see Chris arranging more candles around the room. He held Jisung’s nightlight in his other hand. He wanted to hide away, skin burning, but nobody was laughing at him. Chris and Changbin and Jeongin were all looking at him, but there was a familiar worry in their eyes.

The electricity stuttered back on, but they kept some of the candles burning just in case. Jinyoung sauntered back into the room, forehead slicked with sweat and grime; he had clearly been in the basement, trying to get the power back on. It was dingy and dark and gross down there, the day Jisung and Jeongin had decided to venture in there springing to mind.

“Are you afraid of the dark because of where you grew up?” Felix asked in a soft whisper, his chin on the top of Jisung’s head.

He nodded, chuckling nervously. “Even though I don’t remember it, I just can’t be in dark places.”

A hand wormed its way around Jisung’s face, thumb stroking the plump skin of his cheeks. Chris was smiling down at him, a little sadly, silhouetted by the warm candlelight.

“Okay, how about some dinner?”

* * *

It was weird to have so many people over for dinner, nine of them packed around a table, chatting as they passed the rice and the soy sauce around the table. The clink of cutlery against porcelain bowls filled the room, the shadows of their hands dancing beneath the wavering light of the candles.

Changbin seemed on edge for most of the dinner, likely because there were so many people sat with him.

The storm wailed outside. It was angry, ferocious and malicious. It swirled above, the dark of it blending into a substantial nothing. Jisung knew he was safer inside. He knew the storm would go when it lost hope.

That night, Felix curled up next to him in his bed, the bed big enough for the both of them. This feeling of having been separated for so long with such a great expanse of time void of each other was seemingly meaningless as they seemed to melt into each other, so close it was like they were never apart.

Changbin’s footsteps pattered past, but Jisung heard the door to Chris’ room swing open in the distance, the rumble of thunder passing by seconds later. He knew Changbin would sleep better if he just stayed with their dad tonight.

Elsewhere in the manor, Hyunjin and Minho and Seungmin were drifting to sleep together, under crisp blankets in a room far too clean and empty to be homely. Still, it was likely more comfortable than being in a house with their father, if the stories were anything to go by.

“Your dad,” Felix said, voice low, but still startling Jisung, “seems really nice. He really loves you.”

Jisung hummed. “He does. Dad’s been there for us through so much. Neither me nor Jeongin can really remember a time when he wasn’t in our lives.”

“What about Changbin?”

“Well, Changbin is a little different.” Jisung shuffled around so that he could face Felix better. “He remembers his parents fairly well, and they were good to him. It’s just that something bad happened during a storm and they died. Chris found him all alone when he was five, gravely injured.”

Felix bumped their foreheads together. “How did he find Jeongin?”

“Uh, Jeongin’s story is sort of terrible, actually. You know how there’s lots of illegal trade and selling in the Blood Market?” Felix hummed. “Well, they sell people or creatures sometimes, right? At the time, Dad was doing some work trying to uncover these streams of illegal trafficking, and there was one particular chain of dryad children being sold across Europe. He traced it all around and ended up finding the root of it. And in the process, he found Jeongin, only three years old.”

A crackle of thunder made them both jump. They laughed it off.

Felix sighed deeply, cold fingers wrapped around Jisung’s. “That’s awful. I didn’t think those things were so dangerous.”

“Dad did a lot of work tracking them and taking them down. A lot of people who worked to take down those trafficking streams will talk about Dad.”

There was a glistening pride slipping into his tone. Thinking about the stories Chris told them, and the awe of the people who sometimes came over for work-related meetings, made Jisung blossom with pride for his dad. Without him, he wouldn’t be alive today. Nor would Changbin, or even Jeongin.

“My dad used to be great,” Felix said, tone turning sharp and rough-edged. “He used to be really kind and loving, and he used to consider us all his children. After Mum died, he became reclusive and angry. And he drank more. Now the only kid of his he considers his own is Minho, and Minho never gets hit on purpose.” He shivered. “Minho does everything he can to protect us, getting hurt in the process. He’s more like a dad than our real dad is- no, he’s not even our real dad.”

Jisung wanted to push into all the sad spaces filling Felix’s soul and replace them with his love. He wasn’t sure if snuggling closer was doing any good, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“I remember our birth dad,” he whispered, making Felix stare at him with twinkling eyes of shock. “Only a little bit. I remember Mum sometimes, but only in nightmares. But Dad was really sweet and careful, and he protected me. He was always saying sorry, sometimes crying, too. And he sang lullabies. I remember his lullabies sometimes, but I forget them easily.”

Felix encased Jisung in a tighter hug, arms worming around him. He sniffled, and Jisung was worried he would start crying.

“I wish it didn’t hurt so much. None of my dads have ever stayed dads for long.”

Warm tears dripped silvery and soft onto Jisung’s neck, and alarm flared inside of him. All he could do was rest his cheek on Felix’s head and leave a kiss where his hairline began.

Then he started singing. It was more like humming, the lyrics lost in the fuzz of his memories, but the soft, sorrow melody of the song echoed in his head like a broken record. So, he sung to Felix the same song their dad used to sing to them. Felix seemed to cry more, but now Jisung was joining him.

The night was long, ricocheting with thunder and lightning and crashing rain, and the tears of longing and self-pity that would not dry until the song had been sung and morning had come.


	5. saving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who do you think they are, Jisungie? Who could be your wings and who your storming sea, hm?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot about this so im gonna post all the chapters except the last 2 cos i need to finish those haha

The storm disappeared by the next day, and the boys went back to their home. Chris had this look in his eyes that was painful to look at, his eyes still watching the boys stumble down the path towards the bus stop. It was like he couldn’t bear to see them go, and Jisung couldn’t help but agree. Even seeing Hyunjin’s sun-sunken back made his eyes prick.

A week went by and Jisung knew the boys weren’t doing well. Their dad had been harsher than usual, and the bruises and pain in their eyes told him all he needed to know. Nevertheless, the boys started coming over more and more. Even Minho was stopping by for surprise visits, usually playing with Jeongin’s cat Lucky in the living room or helping Chris in the kitchen when Jisung got home from school.

And so, that week went by in a flash. Uncle Jinyoung began dipping out for work meetings, and Chris began working up in his newly decorated and furnished office. Changbin even found work to do alongside college in a florist in the town centre.

Jisung should have known better. After a storm like that, did he really expect everything to go back to their normal?

It was just after dinner, the sun beginning to set over the fields and the town, the distant horses glowing bronze in the warm light. Jisung was in his room, trying to do some homework with his tummy full. There was even music playing from his phone.

Then a sharp pain hit his temples, dancing behind his eyes and growing more and more. He got up, dizzy, hoping a painkiller would do the trick.

But he barely made it out of his room before his legs gave out. His body was racked with an odd ache, limbs trembling with the weight of his body. His arms nearly gave out as he braced himself on his knees, eyes clenched shut against the pain.

A hot fever took over him. A sweat broke out across his forehead, beads of it dripping down his nose and chin. Something heavy and hollow all at once built up in his chest, pushing the air out of his lungs and igniting a fire in his heart. He could feel his pulse thumping in his blood.

There was someone whispering in his ear – a woman. Her voice beckoned him, calling for him, but there was so much hostility hanging onto each unclear word. Jisung couldn’t make out anything she was saying, or if she was really speaking at all.

His skin began to crawl. It felt like her icy fingers were dragging through his skin. He was making strange, pained noises now, each one louder and more broken than the last, but he couldn’t stop it. His arms gave out, and with a loud thud, he fell onto his side, cheek squished against the carpet.

There was fear filling his head. He couldn’t hear much anymore past the ringing and whispering, but he knew someone was lifting him up. The hallway spun, blurry and dark, but he saw a familiar face past it. He struggled to figure out who it was, but after a moment he realised it was Changbin.

The fear suddenly grew tenfold, racking through his entire body. It was an unimaginable fear, so foreign in his own skin, yet so important to feel. He couldn’t shake off how petrified he was, just like how he couldn’t shake off the brain-numbing pain building in his bones.

An image flashed before his eyes: smoke filling every inch of his vision, cold gravestones rough against his short fingers, and a woman. A woman so familiar it made every hair on his body sharply stand on end, and something metallic and hot rest on the back of his tongue.

“Mummy?” he murmured, but he barely heard himself. Then came the realisation. “Felix?”

Fingers pressed against his temples, and the whispering turned to a horrific shrieking before it was drowned out by a softer voice, calling to him. Jisung blinked, coughing so terribly that the metallic wetness in his throat gushed down his lips – it was blood.

“Jisung?” Chris’ voice pushed through the ringing in his ears. Jisung hadn’t even realised it was deafening him. “Are you okay now?”

The pain seemed to dissipate out through his fingertips and toes, but his eyes stung with tears and his throat ached as if he had been screaming for days. The fear still resided in the deep corners of his mind.

He shook his head, holding Chris’ hands in his own. He gasped out, “Felix. He- He’s in trouble. Graveyard. Mummy.”

That seemed to be all he had to say for Chris to hand Jisung over to Changbin and shoot up. But before he could get far, Jisung grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

“Take me with you.”

“Absolutely not, Jisung, you nearly _died_ just now.”

Jisung swallowed, the blood hot on his tongue. “Dad, he’s my _twin brother_. I have to go to him or _he_ might die. Dad, please!”

Chris stared at him for a long second, expression unreadable. With a pained sigh, he helped Jisung onto his shaky feet and half carried him along the hallway.

“Changbin, you stay here with Jeongin in case any of the others come back,” Chris said over his shoulder. “Get the first aid ready for when we come back. Send Jinyoung if we’re longer than an hour, okay?”

Changbin’s call of affirmation was lost in the thunder of their footsteps as they ran down the stairs. Though his brain was still mush and his limbs were about ready to give out, Jisung could feel Felix reaching for him. He knew the fear he was feeling was not his own, but his brother’s. He knew it wasn’t his own pain, either.

The car ride seemed to last forever before they finally reached the graveyard. The whole time, Jisung’s heart refused to still, and his fingers were so hot as he hid them in his pockets. They trembled like never before, and Chris was not blind to it.

“Are you sure you’re okay enough to do this?” Chris asked as they clambered out of the car, Jisung much slower and shakier. “You can wait here in the car while I go get Felix.”

Jisung shook his head, balancing himself on a pillar. “I have to go. I have to save Felix.”

With a grunt, he lifted himself up and forced himself to follow Chris’ quick steps. They slunk through the foggy graveyard, and Jisung realised it wasn’t smoke that he had seen in the vision before, but simply thick, swirling fog.

They walked on, and then the magic began thrumming beneath their feet. Jisung tightened his coat around him. Chris hardly seemed to feel the chill, his bare arms swinging through the fog and his expression showing no signs of being cold or afraid. Jisung was envious of that strength.

Whimpers echoed from beyond the path. There were some abandoned graves to the left where the fog was thickest. Without hesitation, Chris bolted in the direction of the noises, Jisung following just behind. He was panting and sweating, and he felt like kneeling down and retching, but he had to go on. He had to save Felix.

The fog was so thick around them that Jisung quite literally couldn’t see his own hands. Chris’ hand latched onto his, squeezing so tight the blood was barely flowing to his fingertips. He forgot sometimes that Chris could see better than he, especially in the fog or dark.

A woman’s voice began to fill their ears, but it was the same abrasive whispering from before. There were no coherent sentences being spoken, just a snake-like hissing, eerie and deafening. It stirred more fear into Jisung’s blood.

Then the woman let out a shriek, and Jisung knew she had spotted them. Chris shoved him aside, the fog suddenly pressing onto them. For a moment, Jisung was lost, until his foot bumped into something solid. A sob escaped from that solid thing.

“Felix!” he gasped, falling to his knees.

Felix was a sobbing mess, blood spilling from his lips and skin too cold to touch. His eyes were unfocused, clouded over as if he had gone blind, but he jerked at the sound of Jisung’s voice.

“Jisungie!”

As quickly as possible, Jisung began dragging Felix’s frail and limp body away from the fighting. Sharp shrieks, flashes of light, and a whispery wail like that of a dozen ghouls filled the air. The fog masked most of the fighting, but the shadows of the woman and Chris seemed to follow them as Jisung dragged them towards the surrounding wall of the graveyard.

When his back eventually hit it, he paused to breathe, helping Felix lie back. He checked for injuries, but he found that most of his pain seemed to be coming from the swell of black over his chest. Jisung touched it with his finger and was propelled deep into his mind where the worst of his fears festered.

It was then that Jisung remember who Chris was battling currently, and he realised his own mother had tried to lay a curse with fairy magic onto her own son.

“She- She thought I was you,” Felix wheezed, interlocking his fingers with Jisung’s. “She’s blind. She can only feel us.”

Jisung shushed him gently, worried that if Felix kept speaking, he would drain the last of his energy. If Chris didn’t hurry up, the curse would only worsen and eventually corrupt his heart. Jisung could only do so much with his trembling fingers and the magic of twins.

Already, Felix was starting to look better, though. His skin was still sallow and pale, his eyes fluttering weakly, and his chest heaving and jerking with each breath. But the glow between their pressed hands seemed to be keeping him awake.

A wretched howl echoed through the air, and the fog collapsed around them. It fell to the grass, still light and smoky around their feet. Somewhere in the distance, Chris was stood between two half-crushed gravestones. The remnants of ghosts began sinking back into their graves.

Chris jogged over to them, his expression painted darkly. “How’s Felix?”

Felix took in a harsh, ragged breath, then began coughing.

“Right, sorry. Let’s go home then.”

-

Chris later told Jisung he was glad he had come, for if he hadn’t Felix may have not made it back alive. It was also extremely fortunate that Chris’ family were buried there, or else the fight may have concluded differently,

“Honestly, picking a graveyard to attack that boy was a terrible idea,” he said. “The entire Ghost Royal family banded together to take her down. Too bad she ran off before I could shift.”

For the next couple days, Felix was in and out of consciousness. His brothers all came over, crying hysterically and screaming into empty rooms and either hugging Chris and Jisung or shouting deliriously at them. Despite all of that, Jisung never left Felix’s side, stroking his hair and crying into his chest. He could still feel the embers of his pain and fear swirling in his heart, which ached each time he looked down at the brother he almost lost.

One night, Hyunjin came by and quietly sat in the chair beside Jisung. He said nothing, only gazing at Felix’s sleeping face basked in low light.

“Sorry for saying this is all your fault yesterday,” he said eventually in a wrecked, bruised voice. “And for saying you didn’t do enough to save him the day before. And- And for being so mean to you when you had only just moved here.”

Jisung snorted. “It’s fine, really. I know why you said all of those things.”

The quiet seemed to eat away at Hyunjin, his hands fiddling with nothing as he looked form Felix to Jisung to his hands and back around again.

“Thank you, then, for saving him.” Jisung nearly reeled back in shock when Hyunjin shuffled closer and laid his head on Jisung’s shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do if he or anyone else got hurt.”

“Anyone else, including me?”

“Duh, you prick.” His arms wrapped around Jisung’s, practically snuggling into his side. “If you’re Felix’s twin brother, you’re my brother, too.”

It was like a switch had been pressed by complete accident, and suddenly Hyunjin no longer hated Jisung. Logically speaking, Hyunjin probably never hated Jisung. He was more in-tune with the nature of the town, so he must have sensed that Jisung and his family had brought bad upon them. But now, despite all the evidence for it, Hyunjin hardly seemed to care.

He hummed in content. Perhaps Jisung had never hated him either, only annoyed. Maybe even scared. He let his head rest on Hyunjin’s as they watched Felix take each breath.

-

_Jisung was stood in the graveyard again, fog cushioned around his feet. It swirled like smoke with each step he took. He was wary, eyes catching onto every single miniscule movement._

_A woman suddenly manifested on the path ahead. His first instinct was to run, fear coursing through his blood. But he realised quickly that she was not his mother._

_Jisung drew closer to her still form until it became recognisable. Her skin was encased in wrinkles, eyes void and dark, and her hair was silver and wiry on her head. When Jisung was close enough to touch her, and he did so, she changed into a beautiful, rosy-cheeked woman with eyes of glorious bronze._

_“Ah, Jisungie,” she said in a deep, mellow voice. “You’ve had a tough week.”_

_Jisung swallowed. “Yes.”_

_She cooed, stepping back to look up at the sky with longing. “I’m sure I don’t look very familiar like this, but I’m all the same. Have you figured out the answer to my question yet?” Jisung only stared at her, provoking her to continue. “Well? Are you home now? Are you home now?”_

_She repeated the question in Korean, and only then did Jisung remember. “Great-grandmother Misun?”_

_A roar from the clouds interrupted them, but Misun clapped joyfully as if she hadn’t heard it._

_“Ah, no, it doesn’t seem like you’ve found home here yet,” she said after some time. “You’ve found your wings and your storming sea, but it’s not enough yet.”_

_“Wait, storming sea? And wings?”_

_Misun nodded, sitting atop a long grave made of smooth marble. “Who do you think they are, Jisungie? Who could be your wings and who your storming sea, hm? One of which you were supposed to be wary of, but I suppose he’s had a change of heart. Precious boy.”_

_Jisung cocked his head, but she gave him no time to think. With a wave of her hands, the dream melted away into something else. Now he was standing atop a cliff, looking down at rocky waves as they hissed and howled below. Something about this cliff edge was too familiar, yet so strange and foreign, too._

_“Your memories are dark and hidden for a reason, Jisung,” Misun said in a much lower voice. She seemed to grow older with each passing second. “You need to open them up and find the truth before it’s too late. Only when you know what the truth is can you stop the storm. Then you will know how best to take her down. But you have to remember.”_

_“Remember what?” Jisung cried out._

_He was too late. Misun was now but a drooping woman of frail bones and grey skin. Her smile was hollow as she waved goodbye, shrinking into dust. She blew away in the wind and down into the sea._

_The dream shifted again, and Jisung was surrounded by darkness. For a moment, the fear agonised inside him, deep as it cascaded down onto him. Crushed shadows loomed all around._

_Then the song rose again, soft and melodic. His father’s face appeared through the darkness, singing his lullaby to Jisung._

_“Younghyun!” a voice called, sharp and familiar: his mother._

_Jisung’s birth father startled, eyes going wide with fear as he held Jisung closer. “Jisung, please. Remember! You have to stop her, or she’ll kill you like how she killed me.”_

_A chilling shriek filled the air, and the dream shifted again._

_Jisung was sat in his living room, but he wasn’t alone. Chris and Changbin and Jeongin were there, but so were Felix, Seungmin, Minho, and Hyunjin. They were all laughing at something, faces blurred and sparkling, moving noticeably slower than they would have in real life. It was like Jisung was watching a slowed-down sentimental movie._

_A hand tapped on his shoulder, and Hyunjin must have moved at some point to stand beside him. The room was no longer moving through slow-motion water._

_“Is this home for you yet?” he asked softly, eyes glowing faintly blue. The sound of rocking waves picked up. “Does this feel like home?”_

_In his other hand was a slice of toast, spread thickly with honey. It twinkled in the dazzling light of fire, roaring in the fireplace._

_“You have to remember first if you want this to be home,” Hyunjin said in Misun’s voice. “Remember, for your storming sea, your wings, and your honey toast. For your family, Jisungie.”_


	6. finding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An idea came to Jisung then. “Ghosts. I’m so dumb, I’m literally a Ghost Prince.”

Jisung and the others all knew that their moments of peace were short and brief. That was why, when Jeongin got a panicked, terrified call from Seungmin, Chris charged out into the dark of the night, got in his car and disappeared, only to return with all four brothers and their bags packed. Chris had said something along the lines of it only being worse leaving them with their abusive father while on the brink of magical conflict.

Due to a lack in beds, Minho and Hyunjin took the one in the spare room, Felix shared with Jisung, and Seungmin stayed with Jeongin in his bed. Uncle Jinyoung and Chris were rarely home, so once or twice did Jeongin sneak into Chris’ bed and fall asleep there, the clock showing it was well past three in the morning. Jisung couldn’t sleep either, but that was mostly down to him replaying all his weird dreams in his head like fractured clips from a film.

On one of the nights when Chris wasn’t home, dead into the night, there came a frantic knocking at the door. It went on and on, and Jisung’s heart wouldn’t stop racing in his chest. He heard movement beyond his bedroom door, and he was hoping whoever was knocking would just leave.

Then came shouting, which woke Felix up beside him. His eyes went wide as he said, “It’s my dad.”

They crawled out of bed, stumbling over the blankets tangled around their feet, and hushed each other as they crept out of the room. Changbin was stood at the top of the stairs, illuminated by the light of the moon as he stared at the shadow of a man knocking and cursing at the door.

Changbin turned his head to face them, finger to his lips. Behind Jisung and Felix came Minho with Hyunjin, tiptoeing along the carpeted floor. They jumped with each pounding knock, clinging a little too tight to each other.

“Minho! I know you’re in there, you shit!” their dad roared, words slurred and knocking becoming more languid. “Don’t think I won’t do shit to you just ‘cause you’re my own kid. Get out here now or I’ll fucking do it!”

Minho flinched, grabbing Changbin’s arm. Changbin lay a hand on top of his, patting it as he stared resolutely at the dark figure in the frosted glass windows by the door.

The rumble of a car began drawing closer. The man swore, his figure retreating swiftly but clumsily. None of the boys moved until the sound of the key turning in the door came.

Chris startled when he saw them all staring down at him. His eyes narrowed, frozen in the doorway.

“Our dad was knocking at the door, shouting and stuff,” Felix spoke up, shaken.

Chris dropped his hand. Even from their distance, they could tell he was furious. “Where did he go?”

Minho took a tentative step closer, then ran the rest of the way down the stairs. Chris threw an arm around his shoulders as they both leaned out the door, Minho pointing off in the distance. Jinyoung’s shadow darted away from the door as he went to investigate.

“It’s alright, I’m here,” Chris said, bringing Minho in for a hug that clearly surprised him. “Well, if you’re all up, how about we watch a movie?”

“Movie!” Seungmin and Jeongin’s bright voices cheered, making the others jump.

“When did you get here?” Changbin said.

Jeongin simply stuck his tongue out, dashing down the stairs two at a time. Seungmin copied him before following after.

They congregated in a back room which Chris had started filling with plants and bookcases to make this second living room more homely. It had a huge glass window with a view of their vibrant springtime garden, now basked in shadows and moonlight.

Chris flicked the lights on, and Jeongin leapt over the sofa to browse through their collection of DVDs while Jisung loaded up the DVD player. Jeongin and Minho began bickering over what movie to watch until Hyunjin cut in and suggested a movie that made both of them start bickering with him instead.

Jinyoung patted Chris on the shoulder before disappearing upstairs, arms loaded with files that Jisung didn’t really want to ask about.

“Dad, why are all the cat toys in here?” Changbin asked, kicking a regurgitated mouse under the TV stand. “She’s not even in here.”

Minho popped his head up from where he was crouched by the bookcase. “I forgot you guys have a cat.”

Speak of the devil – Lucky came crawling in, yawning with her jaw stretched open and her claws digging into the carpet. Minho gave up his movie fight to pick Lucky up and coddle her like a baby. Surprisingly, she let him.

“What, that’s no fair! Why does Lucky let Minho do that to her, but she won’t let me ever touch her,” Changbin hissed, pouting as he flopped onto the sofa. “Stupid fat cat.”

Lucky hissed back, her slit eyes glaring at him.

“It’s because you smell,” Jeongin said, causing Changbin to pull him down in an attempt to suffocate him. “Stinky!”

Jisung watched Hyunjin and Felix and all the others laugh wildly at the two. He felt his heart swell in his chest.

_(“Is this home for you yet?”)_

There was a flash of Hyunjin’s face from his blurry dream, but it was gone like waves engulfing patterns in the sand. Jisung didn’t dwell on it, settling down with Felix on one side and Seungmin the other. The movie began.

-

The peace did not last long, as expected. Jisung had hoped so dearly that no one else would get hurt. He had hoped that, if anyone did, it would be him. Deep inside, he blamed himself for all the trouble that had come to the town and these boys. But it seemed his punishment wouldn’t come soon.

A week had gone by far too quietly. They had gone to school together, gone home together, and sat at dinner together. They had started to feel like a real family steadily.

That’s why it was so strange for Hyunjin to disappear like that. They were supposed to walk home from school together, but he never came out of the building. The teacher of his last class said he had left with all the others, but nobody had seen him leave the school.

Then they found one student who said he had been acting strange in one of the hallways, eventually running down it and out a side door.

The four of them bolted for the door. Beyond it was a gate at the side of the school that was usually locked, but not this time. They stepped through it.

Empty fields lined their vision. Along the edge of it was a wooded part, but Jisung had a bad feeling about all of it.

“I’ll go check it out,” Seungmin said with a firmness that was difficult to argue with. “I’m the strongest one here. Call Chris, just in case.”

Then the minutes went by and Seungmin never emerged. Chris had told them to stay put, but Jisung’s bad feeling was only growing stronger and stronger. It was crushing his logical thoughts down. He could see Felix struggling in the same way.

“Jeongin, wait here for Dad so he knows where we’ve gone,” Jisung said, ignoring Jeongin’s panicked protests. “We’ll be fine. You have to stay here, though. Okay?”

Jeongin tried to grab his hand and make him stay, but Jisung and Felix were already running up the small hill and into the woods.

The woods turned out to be bigger than they looked. Beyond the fences lining the houses and beyond the view of the fields, there was a huge number of trees, thick and narrow ones, tall and short ones. They were trapped in a maze of them, legs tangled in vines and nettles and thorny brambles.

A voice echoed through the woods. They caught sight of Seungmin and called to him, making him flinch.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, panting.

Felix grabbed his shoulder. “Why do you look so weak and tired? What happened?”

“It’s like fairy glamour magic, except it’s used to make mazes and trap people in the same place thinking they’ve gone far when they’ve barely walked at all. We shouldn’t have come in here.”

“But this means Hyunjin has to be here,” Jisung piped up. “He has to be here if there’s this magic in the way. It’s like putting up defences around a castle with valuables inside. No point defending an empty castle, is there?”

Seungmin sighed, shaking his head. “But I can’t get us out of here. I hope Chris hurries up and catches on quick.”

An idea came to Jisung then. “Ghosts. I’m so dumb, I’m literally a Ghost Prince.”

The other two stared at him funny. Jisung brushed them aside, closing his eyes. He ventured down deep, whispering sounds to the depths. He wasn’t sure if anything was near enough to help him, but he could feel the wispy tugs in his chest.

He heard Felix yelp. His eyes flew open, coming face-to-face with a slack-jawed, beady-eyed man.

“Uncle Joon!”

The ghost of his delusional, mad uncle grunted at him, the wisps of his hair floating like steam on his head. His eyes were hollow, but he smiled gently. It was difficult to imagine this man going so mad that he buried himself alive in a basement. To be fair, hearing voices in your head every minute of your every day was likely to do that to even the best of people.

“Can you help us?” Jisung asked his uncle’s ghost.

The ghost opened his mouth, a gurgling sound escaping him. But Jisung heard the reply in his head: _Where do you want to go?_

“Can you take us to Hyunjin? You know, the half merman boy who’s been living with us?”

The ghost rolled his eyes, beckoning them with his hand. _I know who he is. Hurry up or that evil fairy will get to him._

Jisung grabbed both Felix and Seungmin’s hands, pulling them along. The ghost of Uncle Joon got them through, and they found themselves breaking through the barrier of the magic maze. The woods were actually much smaller than they seemed, and they were out of it were quickly and onto an ordinary-looking street.

_Mother is with your younger brother._

“Hm?” Jisung stared at his uncle before realising. “Oh, Jeongin! Wait, your mother, as in Great-aunt Myunghee?”

_Who else could it be?_

“Right.”

They began walking down the street, which whistled with wind and whispered with the tremble of trees, but other than that was completely silent. Felix squeezed his hand tighter, sweat building between their skins.

_He’s in that house. I would wait for Christopher before going on. Don’t want you dying young like me._

Jisung looked at his deceased uncle. He looked rather handsome and youthful all of a sudden, eyes still hollow sockets, but his smile was vibrant. Then again, he had been only eighteen when he died, driven mad by his own magic.

But when he blinked again, Joon was nothing but a swallowed carcass, hollow inside and still dead. The tendrils of his roaming lifeform, which would never find peace for he was a Ghost Royal, drifted about his translucent figure.

“What did he say?” Seungmin asked.

“Oh, right. He said Hyunjin is inside, but we’ll probably die if we go in,” Jisung explained, twirling the hairs at the base of Seungmin’s nape.

“Mm, right you are,” came a voice, a woman’s voice.

They all snapped their eyes up to the door, which was swung open. Jisung heard his uncle’s ghost snarling beside him, but his eyes were fixed on the woman in the doorway.

It was like no time had passed between now and the time she had sent both her husband and son to the doors of death. The only difference was that there were shadows across her face no matter which way she turned, and her body moved the way an injured deer would. Jisung remembered that Chris and the other ghosts must have caused enough damage that day in the graveyard.

Felix was a statue beside him, though his hand had begun trembling terribly.

“Oh, what’s this? Why are there two of my son?” the woman spoke, her blank, blinded eyes staring too directly at them. “Wait-”

“Don’t touch them!” Hyunjin’s voice echoed from inside the house, muffled but sharp and agitated. “You evil bastard, leave them alone!”

The door slammed shut behind the woman as she stepped closer. The three of them stepped back. Joon’s ghost remained still, snarling at her.

“Hyunjinnie!” Seungmin called.

The woman turned her nose up, scowling. “And a witch. Boy, leave this be. I’m here to deal with my sons. You needn’t bother yourself.”

The air flared around Seungmin. “You’ve kidnapped my fucking brother!”

But the woman ignored him, taking another step closer. Her wings spread out behind her, glistening gossamer wings that dazzled in the light. Except for the black bruise that was infecting the edges, slowly growing inwards. The top of one of her wings was already bending from the disease she had inflicted upon herself.

“You did this to me,” she hissed, pointing between Jisung and Felix. “My poor wings. It’s all your fault. If only you had died when I told you to, like your father!”

Jisung screamed. Flashes of his father dying suddenly burst through his head, and he wasn’t sure if he was remembering or if his mother was putting them there. He nearly threw up on the road, stumbling backwards. Felix had to catch him and steady him.

“You’re a fucking monster!” Jisung roared, his head filling with his father’s tears and his song. “You killed him and tried to kill me for your own freedom! We were stuck there, too!”

The woman shrieked. The sound was so disturbing that it made them all clap their hands over their ears.

“I deserved freedom,” she cried, stepping closer, faster. “Your father was _useless_. You were just a stupid kid. I should have given you up when I gave up your brother.”

Felix squeezed his arm. “You really are a monster.”

The woman stumbled, and Seungmin took the chance to use his magic. He muttered under his breath, causing the door behind her to slam open again. She was far enough that he could have slipped inside quickly and gotten to Hyunjin; he would have been able to get out easily from there.

But he wasn’t quick enough. She grabbed his foot as he tried to dart around, and that kicked all of Jisung’s instincts in. He was a weak, underdeveloped fairy who could only heal dead trees and summon ghosts, but he would _not_ let this monster hurt the people important to him.

At the same time as he acted, so did Felix. Light lit up around them, and they both flew several feet into the air, arms stinging in the wind.

Seungmin struggled to get his leg free, the energy draining from him under her touch. Felix raised his hands to the sky, and with him came thick tree roots that had curled underground. They wrapped around her, locking her to the ground until she couldn’t hold onto Seungmin any longer.

She shrieked again, and the next thing Jisung knew, Felix was writhing in her grip, her black wings so close that Jisung could have touched them.

He did the first thing he could think to do and shoved her. It seemed to have some effect, but not enough. Jisung was propelled backwards, back hitting the road so hard he wasn’t sure if the road had shattered or if it was bones cracking.

Fairy magic wasn’t working. Jisung saw Joon’s ghost form hovering, staring at him with those hollow eyes.

Jisung shut his eyes tight, letting Felix’s shouts of pain and Seungmin’s shouts of frustration and Hyunjin’s shouts of fury ring in his head. His body went taught and still, muscles tight as his thoughts dissolved into an impenetrable emptiness.

Then a thousand voices rose in his head, each one different from the other. He wanted to scream, to bash his head into the road until the sounds all stopped. Each one had something to say, each one echoing in his head, and Jisung had a feeling he understood why Uncle Joon killed himself.

He forced himself to pick one voice, one loud and strong one, one familiar, one that would listen to him. He let it shriek and scream in his head, then he made it listen. He took another, and another, and he willed them all to listen.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by a dozen or so ghosts, some of them opaquer than others, some of them practically bags of bones and transparent skin, others nearly fully fleshed, living people.

Jisung didn’t want to kill his mother, but there was enough rage inside of him for the ghosts to figure out what he wanted. She had to be stopped, and if his own hands couldn’t do it, the hands of the dead would.

Jisung nearly collapsed as he tried to get himself up. Felix stumbled over to him to help, eyes wide and veiny, tears spilling down his cheeks.

“I thought you died, you twat,” he cursed, pulling Jisung into a crushing hug. “She slammed you down and you just didn’t fucking _move._ I thought you really had died.”

Jisung tried to laugh, the sound coming out much harsher and quieter than he wanted. “No way am I letting that bastard kill another person that I love, including myself.”

The woman shrieked, and Jisung realised that not even the ghosts could get her away from where she stood. Seungmin and Hyunjin were struggling to get out of the house; there were magical barriers up on all the exits. They tried everything they could, but they only had one exit they were capable of leaving.

It was like fate was on their side when the winds began howling. The ghosts all rose, murmuring something to the winds that trembled through the street.

 _The Ghost King_.

Jisung’s mother hissed, paling, as she scrambled away. Clearly, she wasn’t excited to see Chris.

She turned around, coming face-to-face with Seungmin and Hyunjin. She reached out to grab them, but Jisung saw the exact moment when she realised that she was doomed, the ghosts grabbing onto her and pulling her down.

Chris came like a storm, different from the woman’s storm in the sense that he came with rage and determination to save his family, whereas she had come with bitter anger and a thirst for revenge and innocent blood. The air tasted of power and decay.

“Ghost King!” the woman bellowed, but there was fear in her eyes. “You can only protect his life for so long. I will have his blood, and the other twin, too, if I must!”

Chris opened his mouth, and a hundred ghosts seemed to spill murky and ashy from his mouth, whipping through the air and dancing along the winds. The woman was backed into a corner, her face twisting into a mangled scream. It seemed this would be the end, but no, it was not.

She vanished in a plume of fog. It settled around their feet, making the street appear to be part of a ghost town, quite literally. Chris cursed, then screamed in frustration.

“Find her!” he roared to the ghosts, who all but one disappeared into the fog.

The ghost of Joon stood in front of Chris for a moment more, and Chris looked as if he wanted to hug him. Then he too vanished, leaving them alone on the street, panting and crying, still wincing in pain.

Chris ran up to Jisung first, wrapping his arms so tight around him Jisung was sure if he had any broken bones, they would splinter in two now. When he pulled back, there were tears cascading down his cheeks. Jisung didn’t realise he was crying, too.

“Are you hurt?” Chris asked, croakily.

Jisung winced. “Yeah, but I don’t know where. It all just hurts.”

Chris nodded, hugging him once more. He extended his arm and pulled Felix into the hug, too, until they were both squished against his chest. Jisung was shaking badly now.

Chris eventually pulled away to go help Hyunjin, who was in a bad state, but not as badly as Jisung was in. That was clear to see when everyone started asking him if he was okay.

“Do I look dead or something?” he choked out, playing it off with a laugh until Jeongin punched him hard on the shoulder.

“Yes!” he cried, and then he began sobbing.

Jisung let Jeongin cry into his shoulder, heart shattering. He had left his little brother all alone on the field, promising he’d be okay. He broke his promise. Jisung knew he shouldn’t have blindly made promises like that, but he just wanted to comfort his brother. Now he realised the weight of his words and actions had scared his brother into thinking he had died. He very nearly might have, too.

Minho and Changbin were also there in the background, but Jisung didn’t get to hug Changbin until they were in the car heading home. Jinyoung had been waiting with his car near the school for half of the kids to get into. Jisung and Changbin ended up squished in the back of Chris’ car with Felix, Jeongin sat in the front with Chris.

Changbin let Jisung lay his head on his shoulder, crying quietly. Everything hurt, but nothing hurt more than the memories of his father dying resurfacing. When he told Chris about it, the fear on his face was not something he wanted to see ever again.

-

Jisung spent three whole days recovering. He slept most of it off, only occasionally waking up to pee and eat and drink some water. Chris came to check on him a lot, but Felix stayed glued to his side. Changbin did a lot of midnight sneaking in and checking up when he thought Jisung was asleep.

On the fourth day, he got up with Felix’s help and went to sit in the garden. Jeongin was helping the flowers again. He seemed excited to show off the garden to Jisung, as if he had never seen it before. It made the day feel more ordinary.

Jisung’s tree, the holly tree, was still standing tall and proud. Jisung sat underneath it when the sun got too hot. He sat alone for most of the day, watching Jeongin tend to the herbs and bushes.

He wasn’t as surprised as he used to be when Hyunjin came and sat down beside him, drawing his knees up to his chin. They didn’t say anything, but they didn’t really need to.

After a few minutes, Hyunjin let his head fall onto Jisung’s shoulder and said, “You know, magic is really scary.”

Jisung laughed. “It is.”

“I used to hate it,” he admitted quietly, almost shyly. “My birth mother died when I was born, and my birth father abandoned me because I’m not all human. I had nowhere to go, a real fish out of water.” He laughed, and Jisung did, too. “I hated it. Then I got stronger, and I still hated it, but it was useful. I can do a lot of things, more in water than land. But I always feel so powerless. What’s the point in being magical if I’m still so weak?”

Jisung wanted to scream about how well Hyunjin was voicing his thoughts. “I’ve felt the same for so long. I’m not even a proper fairy because of how I grew up. I’m so weak. This tree is the first thing I’ve ever successfully healed with my magic. I was so weak and useless before. Being adopted by Chris was the first time I felt powerful. Or, well, before even. When he took me in, I felt strong. I wasn’t, but I felt like I could be.”

“I hate pretending to be strong when I’m not. It’s so tiring.”

Jisung lay his head on top of Hyunjin’s. “We’re like the same person, bro.”

Hyunjin let out a laugh. “Ew, don’t say that. It’s enough knowing my brother is your twin, okay?”

They fell asleep like that as the sun began to set, leaving Chris and Jinyoung to carry them to bed together. Felix crawled in beside them after dinner, leaving a bowl of fruit on the bedside table for when they both eventually woke up in the late hours of the night (or early in the morning) starving.


	7. dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re wrong,” Jisung said, still holding the boy’s hand. “Some adults break promises, but my dad has never broken a promise before. And if he one day will, he’ll make it up to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter <33

_Jisung woke up to the sound of crying. It was a gurgled sort of crying, as if someone were trying to hide the fact that they were crying. Jisung shifted, tiny hands trying to wriggle out of Chris’ tight grasp. He nearly fell on the floor, but he managed to break free without stumbling._

_He padded out as quietly as he could, trying to avoid dark corners that welcomed fear into them. He found safety in the streams of lamplight that came through the windows of their flat._

_Sat on the sofa was little Jeongin, barely six, with his thumb in his mouth as he sobbed around it. Fat tears slipped down his face, and he was nearly choking on his own breath._

_“Innie?” Jisung whispered, startling him. “Why are you crying?”_

_Jeongin cried harder, tugging his thumb out of his mouth and making grabby hands. Jisung still wasn’t sure how to feel about hugging and his new family, but he wasn’t going to let Jeongin sit alone as he cried._

_He quickly clambered onto the sofa, letting Jeongin crawl on top of him and suffocate him in a hug. He cried some more, hiccupping wetly into Jisung’s pyjama shirt, but soon the muffled wailing died down._

_“What’s wrong?” Jisung asked again, patting his back gently._

_Jeongin propped himself up. “Nightmare.”_

_There were tears clinging to his eyelashes, twinkling like stars, and his cheeks were patchy and red in the pale light of the streetlamps outside._

_Then suddenly Jeongin was not so small, but he was still crying. Jisung was sat beside him, Changbin on the other side, in a different flat now. It was dirtier with water stains on the wall and damp crawling along the corners. The sofa they were sat on creaked, springs digging into their thighs as they sat as close together as they possibly could._

_“It’ll be okay, Chris will be fine,” Jisung promised, trying to wipe the waterfall of tears from Jeongin’s cheeks. It was like trying to mop up rain from a lake. “Don’t cry, Innie.”_

_But Jeongin did cry, harder, until he was lightheaded and exhausted. Changbin let out a sniffle, and that was all it took for Jisung’s vision to blur, too._

_The room changed again. Jisung was sat on Chris’ lap in an office. Children screamed outside, a blurry window separating them from him. A ball bounced just beneath the window on the wall._

_A stern teacher with a furrowed brow and a crisp maroon suit sat behind a desk, hands clasped on her desk as she talked to Chris. She used big words that Jisung couldn’t understand, words dipped in ice that made Jisung tremble. He wanted to cry._

_“He’s trying his best, though,” Chris said, tucking his chin onto Jisung’s shoulder and kissing his cheek. “Aren’t you, troublemaker?”_

_Jisung giggled wetly. “Mmhmm.”_

_The teacher started talking again, turning to a more firm and aggressive approach. Jisung wriggled around in Chris’ lap until he could snuggle into his chest and breathe in the scent of their washing powder and something sweeter, like honey. Chris always smelled of honey and home._

_The dream changed again._

_Jisung was crouched at a train station. It was cold that day, colder than most, and the clouds above were plump and heavy with snow. In no time at all, fluffy snowflakes began falling, nipping his fingertips. His nose stung._

_Chris had promised he wouldn’t be long, but it felt as though years of time had passed. People stared at him over the top of their noses, long coats and gloves and hats hiding them from the cold. Nobody stopped to talk to him, walking past him as though he were part of the station and its uneven bricks and moss-coated benches._

_Somebody tapped him on the head, and Jisung looked up to see a boy. His eyes were glassy, and they seemed blue in the light, but brown in the shade. He was missing two teeth, one in the front along the bottom, and one further along at the top. And as he crouched down beside Jisung, he caught a whiff of the sea._

_“Are you crying?” he asked, arms folded over his knees._

_Jisung sniffed. “No.”_

_The boy laughed, this rocky gentle sound, tilting his head. “Yes, you were. It’s okay to cry, you know.”_

_“But I wasn’t. Why would I be crying?”_

_The boy seemed to think long and hard about that for a minute, eyes roaming around him as he pondered well and truly._

_“Well, I always cry when I’m alone. And you’re alone. So, I guess that’s why.”_

_Jisung sniffed again. “My dad is coming soon, though. He promised, and he never breaks promises.”_

_“That’s stupid,” the boy muttered. “How does he know he can keep that promise? Adults always break promises.”_

_A woman suddenly called out, and the boy spun his head to look at her. He waved his hand, then stood up. With the same hand, he extended it to Jisung, helping him to stand, too._

_“You’re wrong,” Jisung said, still holding the boy’s hand. “Some adults break promises, but my dad has never broken a promise before. And if he one day will, he’ll make it up to me.”_

_The boy smiled at him, missing teeth and all. “Okay, don’t cry anymore, he’ll come soon then. Your dad doesn’t sound like the kind of person who breaks promises like mine does. You don’t have to worry about being lonely.”_

_Jisung smiled back. “Okay.”_

_As the boy disappeared with his mother onto the train, somebody began to sing. It was a soft, melodic song, but ten-year-old Dream Jisung couldn’t hear it. It was a man, singing a lullaby into an echo. Fog began seeping out onto the platform until everything was doused in white, even Jisung._

_“Jisung,” the same voice spoke, but he was also still singing. “You’re not alone, okay?”_

_“I’ll never leave you alone,” Chris’ voice spoke up, and both of Jisung’s dads began singing the same song at once._

_A song of fog, of fathers, of honey and home and dried tears._


	8. promising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris patted his knee. “It’s alright. I’ve got you now.” - Chris' pov chapter

Chris was fuming. In the past few weeks, he had been angry a lot for a lot of different but similar reasons. He was sometimes glad when the cat, Lucky, swiped another book or vase on the floor, because it was this mundane sort of anger that channelled through Chris in those moments. Not the flaming fury of having to save his children (and the brothers of his son’s twin) from a dark fairy and all the other havoc thrown about.

This time, however, was something in between. He had gotten the text from Minho just after Changbin’s, both of them about the same thing: Minho’s father. Now, Minho was trapped in that pub with his father, who was threatening to call the police or hurt Minho if all his children weren’t brought back home. How fun.

Chris parked his car on the curb of some side street. He wasted no time in charging into the pub, disturbing the peaceful people inside. The old man from the first day was sat at the bar again, and he looked up with suspicion at Chris.

“Minho?” Chris called into the room. He heard a muffled call from above, so he ducked behind the bar and through the back door. “Minho!”

A man came to meet him at the top of the stairs. His jaw was slack, eyes almost yellow, and a scraggly beard sat on his square chin. He seemed to be out of breath, mouth twitching.

“Who’re you?” he slurred, red-faced and veiny. “Get outta here.”

Chris shoved him aside with ease, diving into the dirty flat. Every room reeked of alcohol and unwashed clothes and dirty dishes. It was nearly impossible to bear. However, he quickly found Minho’s room, locked tight with a chair in front of it. Chris shouted for him to move back before kicking the door in.

Minho locked his arms around him as soon as he was free. The man was shouting, gurgled word smashed together. He reached to grab Chris but was thrown aside easily.

“I’ll call the police ‘n say you’re kidnapping my kids, yeah,” he bellowed, stumbling into a wall.

“And how will you explain it when the kids all say they want to stay with me and not you? What will you say when I show them the pictures that I have of the bruises you gave them all?” Chris snapped, grabbing the man by the front of his shirt and throwing him into the wall again. “Hm? What then? You fucker. Don’t touch my kids.”

With that, they left the pub. It seemed so simple, so easy, but it hurt. Even to Chris, it hurt. He watched Minho silently clamber into the passenger seat, his glowing smile nowhere to be seen.

“Sorry,” he said, as Chris pulled into the main street. “I wanted to get some more of our stuff. There’s a laptop here, and I’ve got more clothes, too. And, uh, Mum’s spell books and crystals and stuff.”

Chris patted his knee. “It’s alright. I’ve got you now.”

-

Chris had hoped it wasn’t taking a huge toll on Minho, but he later found him curled up with Lucky on the kitchen floor, his mother’s spell book opened beside him. His shoulders shook, and though he had his head ducked down, Chris saw the tears glittering on the floor.

Without saying anything, Chris kneeled beside Minho, who barely flinched as he did. He closed the spell book after glancing at the page, scrawled handwriting and graphite drawings of crystals plastered across it. After pushing the book aside, he wrapped a careful arm around Minho’s shoulders.

“I’m okay,” he said, voice breaking, eyes shining with tears. “I’m fine.”

Chris brought a hand to the back of Minho’s head and pulled it down to lay on his shoulder. With his other hand, he brought Minho’s arm around him until he had the boy in his arms, secure and safe. He let Minho cry until his shirt was dripping. Lucky trotted around to crawl into Chris’ lap, if only to make it easier for Minho to scratch behind her ears.

“You don’t have to be okay, Minho,” Chris said, stroking his hair. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not anymore, at least.”

Minho nodded, sniffling. “Okay. I know. It just hurts a lot.” His hand was shaky as it thumbed across Lucky’s soft ear. “Dad used to love us. Hyunjin and Felix have been with us since they were babies, and Seungmin when he was a toddler. We’re all his children, but he acts as though Mum forced him to be a father to all of us. It makes me feel sick. And he just- he just pretends as if we don’t feel grief for her, too. And I’m so _tired_ of not being able to protect my brothers from him.”

Minho had started screaming somewhere along the line, but his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper at the end, all the pain of the year catching up to him.

“I really miss my mum.”

Chris’s heart ached. He knew how he felt in a way.

“I remember when my mum died,” he said quietly. “I was on the run from all sorts with Jeongin and Jisung and Changbin. I had to protect them from monsters and demons and witches and whatever else wanted my power. It was tiring to protect them all the time, and for a short time I wished my mum would die faster so that we’d be safe. And then she really did die, and I never even went to her funeral. I never said a proper goodbye to her, and she was probably alone when she died.”

Minho tilted his head to stare at Chris, eyes glittery. “Really?”

“Mm. And then I tried to keep my kids safe by keeping them away from this place, but I realised the best way to protect them is to let them be the princes they are, in this castle of ours.” He chuckled with his cheek squished on Minho’s head. “My dad’s family are all shapeshifters. I was never close with him, though. I never even met his parents, though I knew they were alive for some time. I don’t miss my dad, but I miss my mum. All the time.”

“How long has it been?”

“About seven years.”

Then Minho sat up, conviction in his eyes as he asked, “Can you promise me something?” Chris nodded, blinking confusedly at him until he continued. “Can you promise to look after my brothers like your own, or to at least try? They need protecting. Felix has had two dads in his life, and neither of them have ever loved him.”

Chris shook his head. “His first one did. His first dad loved both his sons, but he wasn’t strong enough. I watched him fight for Jisung’s life, but Jisung’s mother was always destined to be dark.” Minho was about to speak up when Chris added, “But yes, I promise. I will look after your brothers _and you_. You don’t need to be so strong anymore Minho. I’m here, okay? I’m the King for a reason.”

Minho stared at Chris as if trying to find the lies or the hint of disloyalty. When he found nothing, he rested his head on Chris’ shoulder again, stroking Lucky until she started purring. Chris let him, content to keep him safe like this for now.

And he was going to keep his promise. He was going to protect and love all of those boys like they were all his children.


	9. remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just a little further,” he pleaded. “Remember, Jisungie. Remember and save your family. Save Felix. Save yourself, and your dad, and save your memories. Do what I could never do; be strong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay just kidding here's chapter 9 the last one is half done   
> idk if i like this chapter much but eh whatever!!

_“Jisung,” a voice crooned – a woman’s voice. It was gentle and silky, like the sort of voice a mother should have. “Jisung, look here.”_

_Her voice was like flowing water in a lake, soft as silk and calm as fluffy springtime clouds. She was sat on a gravestone, and only then did Jisung realise he was stood in the graveyard. He approached her._

_Her eyes were familiar, sharp and cat-like. It wasn’t until she smiled, eyes crinkling and smile curling, that he realised who she looked like._

_“Are you Minho’s mother?” he asked, his own voice grating to his ears._

_She nodded, long hair flowing in the wind. She was like a dream, the very image of beauty and grace. And she was Minho’s mother, a witch, and she was dead._

_She beckoned Jisung to sit on the bench nearby, joining him as he did._

_“I’m familiar, aren’t I?” she asked._

_Jisung stared at her and knew he had seen her before, very far in his memories. She was familiar, not just in Minho, but in his past. It stung every time he reached into his past._

_“You are,” he said. “You’re a part of what I’m supposed to remember, aren’t you?”_

_She shrugged, letting out a laugh. “You’re getting close. Look deeper. Go on.”_

_With a hand painted with rings, she pointed down the path. It was coated in fog and shadows, and Jisung really didn’t want to walk down it. But her hand was steady and her eyes firm. He had to go._

_As Jisung ventured down the path, memories began to pop through his head. Each grave he passed brough forth a new one._

_At first it was smaller things: napping with Jeongin, chasing ravens in the forest, his tenth birthday. Then it was things like the day Changbin nearly drowned in a lake, the strange shadows that broke into their flat one night, and the grey-faced woman who was introduced as his distant aunt._

_It started to hurt in his head as he remembered the first time Chris gave him a bath, washing six years of grime out of his skin. It hurt in his chest when the memories of arriving home to two strange boys and a strange house and even stranger light appeared. He hadn’t been outside much before that day, so seeing was the most difficult thing for him._

_It hurt in his bones when he remembered seeing Chris for the first time, face marred in shadows as he crouched between people of bones and skin and not much more, sallow and grey and barely breathing._

_Jisung could hardly walk much further. A gentle voice was encouraging him, but soon another one was coming. Beckoning him. Begging him._

_“Jisungie,” it crooned, and Jisung wanted to cry._

_His birth father’s face appeared through the fog, bright in the daylight with his wings spread out like day behind him._

_“Just a little further,” he pleaded. “Remember, Jisungie. Remember and save your family. Save Felix. Save yourself, and your dad, and save your memories. Do what I could never do; be strong.”_

_Jisung forced himself up, a sweat breaking out on his skin. It was like hauling bricks up a steep hill, though he was only walking along a flat, foggy path in a graveyard on a clear day. A clear, bright as gold day with his birth father pleading him to follow._

_Pain shot through him, but he was remembering._

_The bug-eyed, sour-faced man with chains in his grip and a whip in the other._

_His mother, shrieking, slapping her husband._

_His mother, shoving Jisung to the ground, striking up a deal with the bug man._

_Crushed shadows pushing down on him, suffocating him._

_Blood, and his father was dead._

_Jisung could hardly breathe, dragging himself along the path. Each breath was like inhaling water._

_The looming monster, so hideous and huge, dragging its claws across the stone floor of the cavern._

_Gold spilling from the hole it had emerged from._

_Jisung screamed. It hurt so much._

_A flash of light, howling ghosts, and a dozen men pouring into the cavern._

_A man scooping Jisung up, holding him to his chest as he screamed in agony._

“Minho!”

_Minho’s mother. Minho’s mother. Minho’s mother, there, sitting there._

_Eyes of blood. Staring at Jisung’s mother._

_She had been watching, hadn’t left until she was sure Jisung was dead._

_Cursed._

_Minho’s mother cursed Jisung’s mother, and for good reason. She would lose her wings soon, her magic, and her life._

_It was Minho’s mother, and Chris, working together. They had been colleagues, friends, like family._

_She was dead._

_Minho._

-

Jisung gasped for air, hands scrambling for purchase. The room was blindingly bright. There were hands everywhere, voices everywhere else, and Jisung couldn’t breathe. Nothing hurt anymore, but he was struggling to feel anything at all.

Fingers were held to his temples, and his vision cleared. Chris sat in front of him, Felix on one side and Minho the other. Hyunjin, Changbin, Jeongin, Seungmin – they were all there.

“Jisung, what–”

“I remember,” he gasped, trying to piece together the fragments of his memories. “I remember everything.”

Chris’ face went white, lips moving but no words escaping. Jisung waved his hands; he was fine, for now. He had to tell them all he could remember while he could, though.

“I remember who was in the cave,” he said, panting. “Minho’s mother. She was there. She was your friend, Dad. You two worked together. And she cursed my mother. And now my mother has come here to get revenge and to break the curse. The only reason the curse didn’t break when Minho’s mother died was because she passed it onto Minho. I know that, I know it’s right.”

Chris’ hands shook. “Haneul? Do you mean Haneul?”

Minho grabbed one of Chris’ hands. “You knew my mother?”

Hyunjin, Felix, and Seungmin all stared at each other before looking back at Jisung.

“She spoke to me,” Jisung gasped. “In my dream, she spoke to me. And my birth father, too. My mother was there, and Minho’s mother cursed her. She’ll lose her wings and her magic soon. She’ll die soon.”

There was a crackle of thunder, like the sky was ripping in half. Changbin covered his ears with his hands, eyes wide. The thunder struck again, plunging them all in darkness. Lightning lit up the sky, blinding them for seconds at a time.

Chris got up. “All of you, into the safe room in the basement. Now.”

Jinyoung met Chris at the top of the stairs. They could hear Jisung’s mother shrieking, shouting, cursing, echoing in the distance. Jisung was shaking so hard he could hardly walk. Minho picked him up, carrying him down the back staircase and towards the basement door.

They hurried down it, bolting it shut after Chris’ nod of affirmation. Minho and Seungmin hurried to light candles.

The basement safe room was secured with thick walls of magic. It was comfortable and stocked up with supplies to last them a number of months if that were to be the case. It was always well stocked up in case of emergencies. Chris had once used this room as a kid, but it wasn’t often used.

They could still hear the shrieking. They heard banging, muffled thunderclaps, and the whisper of ghosts. Chris and Jinyoung were up there, fighting that monster.

“Jisung, lie down,” Minho said sternly, fluffing up the bed in the corner of the room. “You can’t even stand upright. Breathe.”

Jisung laid down, but it was still hard to breathe. Jeongin crawled into bed beside him and held him close. Jisung tried to match his breathing.

“So, Jisung basically had a magic-induced dream where Minho’s mother’s ghost and his birth father’s ghost visited him, and he remembered his traumatic childhood, and now his mother has come to kill us?” Seungmin said, trying to sound certain but sounding more scared than anything.

Felix wrapped his arms around him. “She’ll want me, Sungie, and Minho dead.”

“Chris won’t let her,” Changbin said.

“But how can you be so sure?” Hyunjin blurted out, tone scaling high.

Jisung inhaled shakily. “Because he promised.”

“How do you know he’ll keep that promise?”

“Because Dad has never broken a promise before!”

_(“Some adults break promises, but my dad has never broken a promise before. And if he one day will, he’ll make it up to me.”)_

Hyunjin and Jisung stared at each other for a moment, something light inside them. Jisung’s head hurt, but it was strangely clear. All he could smell was the sea. There was a woman behind Hyunjin, her hair flowing down her back, eyes crinkling. She was in Jisung’s memories, covered in shadows as she cursed his mother. She was waiting at the train station for her son to run to her. She was in Minho’s smile. Then she was gone. Hyunjin looked away.

“Dad won’t let her hurt us,” Changbin promised, tone heavier and firmer than before. “He’s our dad. He’s always tried to keep his promises.”

-

They all knew Chris would try to save them. But an hour later, this electric feeling hummed through them all. It was hot on their tongues and it made them dizzy. Some of them fell onto their knees, namely Changbin and Jeongin. Jisung screamed.

There was a commotion, a fuss, and then the door was open. Changbin was gone. They chased after him.

The house was a mess. Some of the windows had shattered, and everything was basked in darkness. The sun would rise soon, and then they would see the true extent of the mess.

“The cliffs,” Hyunjin gasped, hand clutched over his heart. “She’s down at the cliffs with Chris.”

Changbin stood at the doorway, shouting incoherently, weeping almost hysterically. He fell to his knees on the floor, hands scratching up and down his arms until Seungmin grabbed them, holding him still.

“I have to go,” Hyunjin said, knees buckling. “I can feel it. We have to do something.”

“Are you fucking insane? We’ll die!” Minho bellowed.

Jisung didn’t stay to listen. He sprinted out past Changbin, heading for the car. “Who can drive here?”

“No way!”

Hyunjin came and joined him, standing by the car. His face was basked in its own moonlight, pale and glowing and bright.

Minho sighed in defeat. “Only us three can go. Felix, you’re safer here. This mainly involves me and Jisung. Jeez, fuck. Hyunjin, okay, shut up. Come on.”

-

This was a sight to behold. Clouds of ebony streaked across the sky, lightning zipping in spirals as it struck the sea. Chris was locked in fight with the dark fairy. His ghosts were fighting the monsters of cloud and fog and storm that she had manifested.

Goosebumps came to life on Jisung’s skin. He couldn’t breathe, watching the colour drain from Chris’ face and the blood slip down past his lips.

Jisung’s mother noticed them, sucking in a deep breath. Chris lunged, knocking her closer to the edge of the cliff. One more shove and she would be gone. Her wings were as weak as Jisung’s now, maybe worse.

Something nearly hit Hyunjin, but Minho was faster. His eyes flashed, he hissed, and the monster disintegrated.

Jisung channelled all of his magic into one point. He thought of his dads, his brothers, his home, and he put all of it into his heart. He filled his heart until it was fit to burst. It was overwhelmingly comfortable and warm, and nothing had ever felt so right.

As the monsters came at them, Jisung screamed. Dazzling light blinded them. A colony of seagulls burst up from over the cliff, squawking as they dove for the monsters. Raindrops fell around them, stained crimson, and the air reeked of death.

The woman shrieked, pained. Chris locked eyes with Minho, and then he was muttering under his breath, hollow and rough, sounds of the earth escaping him. His eyes flashed white again, and the dark fairy fell over the edge of the cliff.

The rain stopped falling. Jisung darted about, pouring his exhausted feelings into his touch, healing as many seagulls as he could. Gratefulness rested on his tongue, delicate and soft.

Hyunjin had disappeared, but Jisung only had to look so far to see he was down on the beach. They ran down the stairs, eyes never leaving the woman as she lay lifeless on the sand. Hyunjin stood over her, expression hidden behind waves of his dark hair.

Chris was the first to reach him, but he didn’t touch him. Hyunjin was singing.

The sound of it was so melodic and beautiful, yet so frightening that Jisung was afraid to come any closer. Melancholy, loss, grief, and pain were etched into each of his words. So soft and gentle, like a lullaby, yet so agonised. Jisung felt tears prick his eyes. Minho was there to catch him.

Never in his life had he seen a wave so huge. It lifted high above them, then crashed down on Hyunjin and the woman. When it fell away, foam and glittering turquoise scuttling back down the golden shore, only Hyunjin was left standing.

A moment of quiet passed by. It didn’t last long, Chris turning on them and shouting until his voice was hoarse. His steps were heavy and weak, but he somehow found the strength to bellow so furiously Jisung would be scared if he was a stranger. But he knew Chris loved him.

“Does it get easier now, Dad?” Jisung asked, settling into the passenger seat of the car. “Will I be happy now?”

_(“Are you home now? Are you going to be happy now?”)_

Chris kissed his forehead, salty tears dripping down Jisung’s face. “You will. I promise, you will.”


End file.
